THE THING II: Hawke Station
by Anguirus1955
Summary: Shortly after a horrendous winter storm, the crew of United States Antarctic Research Base "Hawke Station" find themselves investigating the recent loss of contact with US Outpost #31 and a nearby Norwegian camp. Over the course of this investigation, Hawke Station's crew soon find themselves dealing with something more terrifying than anything they could have ever imagined.
1. Hawke Station

**THE THING II: Hawke Station**

Disclaimer: John Carpenter's THE THING (1982) is property of Universal.

This will be my first Thing fan fiction, but I am not asking any reviewers to go easy on it. If I fuck something up, let me know in your reviews. Criticism that is constructive is highly appreciative, as it points out both the things that are done right _and_ the things that are done wrong, allowing the writer to adapt and grow.

* * *

 **Chapter 01: Hawke Station**

* * *

Date: Winter Of 1982 - 1983

 **United States Antarctic Research Outpost "Hawke Station"**

Looking out his window as the sun came up, 39 year-old Allison Barclay, often called Bar by everyone else, looked out across the vast expanse of the antarctic tundra. Barclay was one of two men in charge of the station, and while the other man, Charles Hendry, was older and had more military experience, Barclay was the one who was truly in charge. There was white snow as far as the eye could see, apart from the small untouched patches of rock found on the sides of the sparse mountains that were found in certain locations throughout the continent. Barclay could have sworn that he'd been told that Antarctica had no mountain ranges.

As the clouds lifted and the sun shone down on the white frozen water that covered the surface of the continent, Barclay took in a breath as he saw just how much snow had accumulated over the course the most recent blizzard. _Gotta get the flamethrowers,_ Barclay thought to himself as he turned around and finished getting dressed. Allison Barclay was a barrel-chested man with a rather short beard and facial hair. After grabbing his camouflaged winter jacket, Barclay exited the room and made his way down the hallways of Hawke Station.

Most of the other crew were already awake, including the station commander, Charles Hendry, as well as the chief mechanic, Samuel Dutton, who was already in the vehicle garage. Dutton, much like Barclay, was of a large stature and muscular build, although Dutton was easily the more muscular of the two men. In terms of build, Barclay was an Army man who preferred running for exercise, while Dutton was a weight-lifter. He also wore a red baseball cap most of the time, even when indoors. Inside the recreation room, which Barclay passed on his way to the station commander's office, several crew members had made themselves comfortable at the game table.

Barclay walked inside the room, looking at the men who were already enjoying themselves with ping-pong and cards. Doctor Louis Atkins and his assistant, Arnold Thorne, were both playing ping-pong against each other. Thomas Van Wall, the chief helicopter pilot, was engaged in a game of cards with meteorologist Jim Stiles and backup pilot Harvey Jordan. Martin Crenna, a geologist, was busy sleeping in a chair.

"Hey, who wants to melt snow?" Barclay asked as he stepped forward with a smirk on his face. Nobody looked very enthused. "Pomroy's already outside," Van Wall said. "Thought he'd be with the dogs," Barclay said in surprise. "Yeah. He's teachin' them how to use the flamethrowers," Stiles joked with a chuckle. "Dutton's out there too. He's already cleared a path to the garage," Atkins said. "Shovel or fire?" Barclay asked him. "Didn't ask," Atkins responded. Barclay rolled his eyes in response before turning around and exiting the room.

Making his way over to the room where the flamethrowers were kept and checked the fuel levels before securing the canisters to his back and making his way out to the nearest exit. He opened the door inwards, ready to head outside, only to find that a seven foot tall wall of snow and ice was blocking his path. _So... Dutton and Pomroy grab flamethrowers, but they DON'T use the nearest exit? Okay then_ , Barclay thought to himself before stepping back several feet and aiming the torch at the wall of snow blocking his path. "Fire and snow! Fire and snow!" Barclay sang to himself cheerfully as he let loose a stream of fire at the wall of snow.

When he was finally finished, he stepped outside and closed the door behind him. He looked out at the white landscape that surrounded him and the station. The stations radio dome was relatively clear, with only patches of snow on top of it. The vehicle garage, a very large shed with a small circular tarmac around it, was currently having its snow walls cleared away by Dutton, who was wearing his signature red cap.

"Hey, Dutton!" Barclay called to the man as he shoveled another load of snow away from the garage doors. Dutton looked over at Barclay. Seeing the flamethrower in his hands, Dutton grinned, knowing that his job was about to get a lot easier. "Grizzly Bar!" Dutton called out in return with a grin. He and a few other members of the station's crew had begun calling Barclay "Grizzly Bar" when the man started growing out his beard some months earlier. Barclay had decided that while he wasn't particularly fond of the nickname, it was still better than being called Alice by the summer crew members who'd learned his first name. It was especially annoying because Alice was short for _Alicia_ , not Allison.

Walking over to Dutton's position, Barclay looked around at the pitiful trenches of snow that the man had dug with his shovel. "I guess we got more snow than we expected from that last storm, eh?" Barclay asked the mechanic. "Actually... I kind of expected _more_ ," Dutton replied.

Barclay looked at the man, raising an eyebrow. "You're kidding, right?" Barclay asked him, prompting the mechanic to shake his head. "I'm serious. First two weeks of winter in Antarctica. I was seriously expecting a lot worse," Dutton said. "How much more snow is blocking the doors?" Barclay asked him. "Enough that you'll need some fire," Dutton said.

Barclay studied Dutton for a moment. "You just wanna see this thing in action, don't you?" Barclay asked him, referring to his flamethrower. Dutton briefly looked away before relenting. "Yes," Dutton admitted reluctantly. "Why not just say so?" Barclay asked him. Dutton merely shrugged his shoulders in response. "Better yet, why didn't you just grab a flamethrower of your own before coming out here?" Barclay asked him.

"I got carried away with shoveling. I was gonna shovel a little bit in front of the base and then grab a flamethrower to melt the rest away, but... I got carried away," Dutton explained. "Fine, whatever," Barclay muttered. "Just stand back. I don't wanna fry you by accident," Barclay said as he motioned for Dutton to get behind him.

 **Meanwhile, In The Radio Room...**

Bart Caldwell was busy fiddling with the dials on his equipment while assistant radio operator Tom Sanchez lit up a cigarette. "Could you not do that in here? I don't need this equipment getting gunked up by the smoke," Caldwell said. "Whatever," Sanchez replied flippantly before putting out his cigarette on the nearest table. Tom Sanchez was a thin red-headed man with short-cropped hair, while Bart Caldwell was a stocky man and had brown hair, along with a mustache that he refused to shave, despite the many looks that people gave him for it. Caldwell was also a fan of Jazz music, while Sanchez preferred Rock and Roll, being a huge Beatles fan.

"Come in, McMurdo. This is Hawke Station. We are testing for communications in the wake of the latest winter storm. Please respond," Caldwell requested over the radio. "Uh, Bart? I think I know why you haven't been getting any responses this morning," Sanchez said as he looked down at the floor underneath the table. "Yeah? Why's that?" Caldwell asked him. "You don't have that thing plugged in properly," Sanchez said, pointing at the loose cable on the floor.

Caldwell pushed his chair back and leaned over to peek under the table, seeing that the power cord for the microphone was indeed unplugged. "Do you need glasses or something?" Sanchez asked the older man with a snicker. Caldwell merely sighed in contempt for his assistant before getting on his knees and crawling under the table to plug the cord back into the outlet.

When he crawled back out, he looked up and saw Sanchez standing over him. "Boo!" Sanchez said before chuckling. Caldwell merely frowned in return. "Asshole," he muttered before getting back in his chair and resuming his attempts at contacting McMurdo station.

 **In The Green House...**

Botanist Dillon Walters jotted down some notes on a clipboard as he moved from one plant to the next, studying each one carefully. "No changes observed yet," he muttered. "Consistent temperature with minor variations, regardless of season, have yielded a consistent growth rate for the plants in groups A, B, and C," he said to himself. "Group D, however... has shown little to no progress since the end of Summer. The plants grown in this section will require further examination," he said to himself before walking over to the next group of plants in the green house.

"I hope I don't have to start all over again," he muttered as he walked through several rows of hydroponically grown plants. Dillon Walters was a lean man in his early thirties with a short beard and a balding head. His hair was black, and he had a crooked nose. He was also fond of gardening.

Walking over to the vegetable garden, or the Salad Barracks as Kinner, the resident cook, had called it once, Walters opened the door and entered the slightly smaller temperature-controlled room. Looking around at the rows and columns of various tomatoes, lettuce, and zucchini that lined the room, Walters nodded his head in appreciation. "Well, at least we'll have some fresh food by tomorrow," he said to himself as he closed the door behind him and began his daily inspections.

"No signs of any unwanted contaminants," Walters said to himself after a careful inspection of each plant. "Rock wool medium shows no problems, as guaranteed by the supplier," he then added with a smile. Walking over to the very end of the room, Walters knelt down next to the small row of marijuana plants. "Why did I let them plant you in here again?" Walters asked himself as he inspected the plants. "Well... I guess the air _is_ a little cleaner with you guys in here," he said reluctantly.

"But they'd better not sell this shit and get us shut down," Walters then grumbled under his breath.

 **The Dining Room/Mess Hall...**

Commander Charles Hendry poured himself a cup of coffee before adding cream and sugar, turning his head as he heard footsteps. "Good morning, Stewart," Hendry said to the scientist who had entered the room. "Good morning, Charles," Stewart Carrington said as he walked over to the coffee pot. "Hey... there's barely enough left for half a cup!" Carrington whined.

"You snooze, you lose," Hendry said with a mirthful chuckle and a smile. Carrington glared at Hendry before sighing in defeat. "I guess I don't really need the caffeine that much anyway," Carrington muttered to himself. Charles Hendry was an Army man in his early sixties. He had been assigned to Hawke Station in order to keep an eye on Barclay, who had been given the antarctic assignment after catching two superior officers, both married but not to each other, having an affair back home.

Hendry was only a few years away from retirement, so he took the assignment as a way of getting a change of scenery before finally settling down somewhere. One last adventure, he'd told himself. Hendry had a large frame, with the lean musculature expected of an Army veteran, especially one who had served in the Korean War. Barclay had also served in a war; the much more recent Vietnam War. Because Hendry had felt that the Korean War had become forgotten by most people, and with Barclay being a veteran of Vietnam, which had received far more attention than the Korean War, there had been tension between the two men for a couple of months until they'd finally settled their differences.

Looking at the young scientist in front of him, Hendry offered the man his cup. "I haven't drank out of it yet," Hendry said. Carrington shook his head in response. "I appreciate the gesture, but... it's yours. Besides, I prefer to drink de-caf anyway. Makes me need to go to the bathroom less often," Carrington replied. "Suit yourself," Hendry said.

Stewart Carrington was a biophysicist with a short beard and a balding head, despite only being in his early thirties. His hair was a dark blond color, and he had the most hideous taste in clothing, although his clothing choices were always pragmatic and practical, even if they were sore on the eyes of his colleagues. Prior to leaving for Antarctica, Carrington had been offered a teaching position at the University of Maine, which he had declined for the opportunity to conduct research in the antarctic. He'd regretted that decision after seven months of living at Hawke Station, especially after learning that the teaching position had been given to someone else shortly after he'd left.

A minute later, Jonathan Connant, the station's chief biologist and senior biophysicist, entered the room. Connant was a man of average stature and build, and he was in his early fifties. He also still had a full head of hair, which he sometimes used to tease the younger and balding Carrington, much to the latter's dismay. "Mornin' fellas," Connant said as he walked over to a pantry cupboard and grabbed a ceramic mug. "Good morning, Jonathan," Hendry said after taking another sip of his coffee.

"Morning, Connant," Carrington said unenthusiastically. "Has anyone seen Crenna this morning?" Connant asked the two men. "I think he's in the rec room. Why?" Carrington responded. "He borrowed one of my rulers last week for some kind of experiment and he still hasn't returned it," Connant said before he walked over to the coffee maker. After pouring what was left of the pot into his cup, the older scientist walked out of the room and into the hallway, heading for the rec room.

"Huh. He didn't say anything about my hair this morning," Carrington said. "What hair?" Hendry asked him with a chuckle. Carrington glared at the older man before walking over to the pantry cupboard and grabbing a ceramic mug of his own, grumbling under his breath.

 **Back Outside In The Snow...**

Barclay let out a whistle as he melted the last of the snow blocking the doors of the vehicle garage. "I guess now it's-hey, Ralsen," Barclay said as he spotted Benjamin Ralsen, the assistant mechanic, heading towards him and Dutton. Bill Lambert, a mechanical engineer on a temporary assignment at Hawke Station, was close behind. Ralsen and Lambert were both somewhat scrawny men, but Ralsen had grown a small amount of muscle from all of the manual labor he'd been doing at the station since his arrival, while Lambert had only been at the station since the end of the Summer season.

"So, what's the plan for today, Boss?" Ralsen asked Barclay. "Hey, _I'm_ the boss," Dutton said with a smirk. "Get some shovels and start digging out whatever snow is blocking the external station doors," Barclay said firmly. "We don't get to use the flame-" "No, Lambert. No, you do not. Get some shovels. It'll be safer for you anyway," Barclay interrupted the man.

"Yes _sir_ ," Lambert spat before walking away. Ralsen looked at his retreating form before turning back to look at Barclay. "What was that all about?" Ralsen asked him. "He hasn't had any training with the flamethrowers. I don't need him setting himself on fire by accident, or anyone else for that matter," Barclay explained.

"So, do you want me to go get a shovel too?" Ralsen asked Barclay. "Yes, Ralsen. Go get a shovel and start shoveling," Barclay said to him. "And you, Dutton. Go find out where Pomroy is. I wanna know where the dogs are before I start clearing the snow around the kennel area," Barclay said before he stopped talking. He stared out into the distance at a lone figure out in the snow.

"What?" Dutton asked, before turning around to look in the direction of Barclay's gaze. "Is that Silva?" Dutton asked rhetorically. "And his camera," Barclay said as he watched Victor Silva take pictures of the snowy landscape around them. As Silva turned his camera around and prepared for another shot, he looked over at them and waved. Barclay half-heartedly waved back at him.

"You think he's trying to get a picture of you with the flamethrower?" Dutton asked him. "Don't know. Don't care," Barclay replied tersely. He began moving forward, only for Silva to hold out a hand, signaling for him to stop. "Oh, come on. Is he serious?" Barclay asked in frustration as he waited for Silva to finish his first round of picture-taking. "You're actually going to stand here for him?" Dutton asked.

"Might as well. If I go over there now, I'll just have to listen to him ramble about how our positions relative to him can affect the lights and shadows of his shots, and I really don't care to hear about that for the umpteenth time," Barclay said, glancing at Dutton. A few minutes later, Silva waved at them, motioning for them to start moving.

"Go find Pomroy like I said earlier," Barclay ordered Dutton. Dutton nodded his head and made his way over to the other end of the station, where the kennel was located. Meanwhile, Barclay made his way over to Silva, keeping his flamethrower pointed away from the other man as he got closer. "Morning, Bar!" Silva said enthusiastically as he started preparing to move his camera and tripod.

"Morning, Silva," Barclay said before he got close enough to notice the thermos hanging from a clasp on Silva's snow-covered jacket. "So... how long have you been out here?" Barclay asked the photographer. "Oh, about an hour. Maybe longer," Silva replied with a grin. "Uh-huh. Right, and... what exactly are you doing?" Barclay asked him. "Taking pictures," Silva answered.

"Of what? What is there around here that you haven't already photographed?" Barclay asked him. "I just felt like taking pictures of the station after the storm. I took some pictures of the station before the storm hit, so now I'm taking pictures of it afterward. It'll be a record of the station," Silva explained. "Yeah, well... make sure that you let someone know when you're coming out here to take pictures by yourself. I don't need to fry you by accident, and we don't need someone getting lost or freezing to death," Barclay said.

"I told Hendry," Silva said. "He didn't say anything to _me_ ," Barclay said. "Well... I told someone," Silva said. "Well, next time, make sure that it's more than one person. By the way, did you do any shoveling in the time that you've been out here?" Barclay asked the photographer. "I cleared the snow away from the entrance by the kennel," Silva said.

"Funny, I didn't hear the dogs barking this morning," Barclay muttered. "They're used to me by now," Silva said. "Uh-huh. Right. Look, just make sure you don't go overboard with the pictures. It's winter, so we aren't getting anymore supply shipments until Spring, and that means you need to ration what you've got until then," Barclay said. "Oh, I know. I have at least three crates of film in storage," Silva said. "Three _crates?_ " Barclay asked him. "Yeah. Each one's about a foot and a half wide high and wide by two feet in length," Silva explained.

"Just... don't break your camera then," Barclay said. "I have a spare," Silva said. "That doesn't mean you should get careless with it. I don't wanna hear you whining if it gets broken," Barclay said before he walked over to the snow-covered tool shed.

 **Back In The Radio Room...**

"Right," Caldwell said as he jotted some notes down on a piece of paper. "We'll make sure to check it out today," Caldwell said. " _Thanks. We've tried contacting Outpost Thirty-One, but we've gotten no response so far. You guys are the second-closest ones other than the Soviet station. We'd feel better if you were the ones to check them out,_ " the radio operator from McMurdo station said. "Don't worry. I'll get Commander Hendry or Captain Barclay to check it out. We'll try contacting Outpost Thirty-One as well in the meantime. Hawke Station, out," Caldwell said before ending the radio conversation.

Sanchez looked at Caldwell with a curious expression. "Did that really just happen? I mean, did they really say that the _Soviets_ are heading their way to drop off an _American_ scientist at their doorstep? I mean, the _Soviets?_ " Sanchez asked Caldwell. "Yes, Tom. They _did_ say that," Caldwell replied as he looked at his notes.

"Now, go get Barclay or Hendry and give them these notes," Caldwell said as he handed the paper to Sanchez. Sanchez rolled his eyes and grabbed the papers with an exasperated sigh before making his way out of the radio room. Caldwell watched the younger man leave the room before returning his attention to the radio. He took out his frequency and channel listings book before attempting to make contact with US Outpost number 31.

"Come in, Outpost Thirty-One. This is Hawke Station. Please respond. Come in, Outpost Thirty-One. Please respond, over." After several minutes of repeating the same thing, Caldwell shook his head with a growl and reset the radio before trying once more. "This is horseshit," he muttered to himself after another failed attempt at contacting the silent American station.

* * *

"Say that again?" Barclay asked Sanchez as he stepped away from the snow plow. "Here," Sanchez said as he handed the notes to Barclay. Barclay looked at the paper carefully. "Are you serious?" he asked the assistant radio operator. "Yeah," Sanchez replied. "You didn't say anything to Hendry, did you?" Barclay asked him. "Not yet," Sanchez replied. Barclay mulled over the new information quietly, biting his lower lip before letting out a breath.

"Okay, go back inside and find out who the closest station is to that location," Barclay said. "It's US Outpost Thirty-One. Caldwell's trying to get through to them right now," Sanchez replied. "What about McMurdo? Have they heard from them either?" Barclay asked him. "No. We're the closest American station. The only other station close enough to the Norwegians is the Soviet station," Sanchez said.

Barclay looked around the outside of Hawke Station. Dutton was already plowing snow away from the vehicle garage with the snowplow, and Ralsen and Lambert were clearing snow off of the helicopter. "Alright, give me a few minutes to finish up out here, and then I'll be back inside. Go back to the radio room and find out if Caldwell's made any progress reaching Outpost Thirty-One yet. I'm gonna go get Hendry after I'm finished out here," Barclay said.

Sanchez nodded his head before turning around and making his way back inside the station, tripping over his boot laces before picking himself up and resuming his trek towards the warmth of the building's interior. Barclay looked back down at the paper that was in his gloved hand. "What a way to start off the winter," he muttered to himself.

* * *

Making his way to the radio room, Barclay heard multiple voices involved in conversation. One of those voices was Hendry's. Stopping just outside the door way of the room, Barclay saw Charles Hendry standing near a table, arguing with Caldwell while Sanchez was busy trying to use the radio. Hearing footsteps behind him, Barclay turned his head and saw Anthony Reynolds, the station's assistant cook.

"Hey, what's with the noise?" Reynolds asked Barclay. Anthony Reynolds was a rather scrawny man, with a clean-shaven face and hair that he had tied into a ponytail. He had a very laid-back personality and when he wasn't cooking, he preferred to spend his time reading mystery and detective novels.

"Just an unusual radio message," Barclay said vaguely before he turned back to walk into the radio room. "Caldwell, have you managed to reach Outpost Thirty-One yet?" Barclay asked the radio operator. "No! I haven't been able to contact them at all. Besides, the blizzard just ended last night, so they're just as likely to have gotten one as well," Caldwell replied.

"Or those soviets are involved," Hendry spat. "Hendry, they're _scientists_ , not soldiers," Caldwell retorted. "Then what are they doing with an American scientist in their clutches? Hm? Answer me that!" Hendry responded with vigor. "Charles, calm down," Barclay said sternly. "Now, Bart, I want you to tell me what the guys at McMurdo told you," Barclay said as he shifted his attention.

"They said that they were recently contacted by the guys at one of the Soviet research stations. The soviets claimed that an American scientist made her way to their station just before a large storm hit them earlier this week," Caldwell began. "The Soviets are planning to take her to an American station, preferably McMurdo," he finished. "Why not Amundsen-Scott?" Barclay asked him. "I'm sure they'd have room under that big dome," he added.

"The last flight from Amundsen-Scott already left for the winter," Hendry said. "Shit," Barclay muttered. "Well, why don't we pick her up and take her to McMurdo?" Reynolds suggested, causing Hendry to scoff. "Better yet, why not take her to Outpost Thirty-One? They're American," Sanchez spoke up. "Are you kidding? No one's heard from Thirty-One for over a week," Caldwell said.

"When did the commies pick this man up?" Hendry asked. "Woman. The scientist is a woman, at least according to the guys at the Soviet station," Caldwell said. "What kind of scientist is she?" Hendry asked. "I don't know. They just said that she's a scientist who traveled from a Norwegian station after... something bad happened," Caldwell said. "What do you mean 'something bad'?" Hendry asked him. "I don't know. They said that she claimed to be from Thule Station, which is a Norwegian research station in the Queen Maude Land area," Caldwell said.

"So, why not take her to another Norwegian station? Like Troll, or that Chinese station, Showa?" Reynolds asked him. "Showa is a _Japanese_ research station, not Chinese. And besides, do you know how far away those stations are from here? Too damn far," Hendry said, correcting him. "Most of those places are a hell of a lot easier to get to than McMurdo, though, so why go through all of the trouble?" Barclay asked. "I _don't_ know," Caldwell said. "I. Do. Not. Know," he reiterated. "Wait... if she's an American scientist, then why didn't she make her way to Outpost Thirty-One?" Sanchez asked.

"We don't even know how far away Thirty-One is from the Norwegian station that this _American_ scientist is supposedly from," Barclay said. "Reynolds, go to the cartography room and get us a map. One that has our research stations listed on it," Hendry ordered. "Uh, why do I-" "Just _do it_ ," Hendry said forcefully. Reynolds nodded his head and took off down the hall.

"Did they tell you anything else about this woman? Her name? Why she was at a Norwegian station?" Barclay asked Caldwell. Caldwell sighed and threw up his hands in exasperation. "Oh my god, for the final time. I. Do. Not. _Know_. They didn't tell me that stuff. I'd have to call back McMurdo and ask them," Caldwell said. "Then do it," Hendry told him.

"I'll get them," Sanchez said from his radio console. "Come in, McMurdo. This is United States Hawke Station calling McMurdo, do you read me, over?" Sanchez asked. " _This is McMurdo responding to Hawke Station, over._ " "Yes," Sanchez whispered to himself. "Uh, hey, McMurdo, you told us earlier about some Soviet guys bringing an American scientist to your doorstep; can you explain a bit more about that? Like, her name for instance?" Sanchez asked.

" _The Soviets said her name was Lloyd. That's all we know. They said their translator is having a difficult time trying to understand half of what she says, so they're bringing her to us within the next two days. Have you guys sent anyone to check out the Norwegian place yet?_ " "Uh, negative. We're still clearing snow off of our helicopter at the moment. We just got out of a pretty bad snow storm last night," Sanchez replied.

" _Well, if you can, try to check it out before tonight. Outpost Thirty-One is the closest, but no one's heard from them since they got hit with a storm a few days ago. We think they tried calling us before it hit, but atmospheric conditions made it difficult for us to hear anything clearly on their end. Every time we called them, we'd get static or no one would respond. If you can, try checking on them too. I know I already asked the other guy who talked to us about this,_ " the McMurdo radio operator said.

Barclay walked over and tapped on Sanchez's left shoulder. "Uh, hold on, my boss wants to talk to you," Sanchez said before he got out of the chair and let Barclay sit down. "This is Captain Alli- Al Barclay speaking. I want you guys to contact the Soviet guys again, make sure that you have a translator, and find out-" "Okay, I found a map!" Reynolds exclaimed as he returned to the room with a large map in his hands. Reynolds walked over to the table where Caldwell and Sanchez had placed their breakfast plates and laid out the map on it.

"Find out if she was part of the station's original crew or if she was a visitor. And find out how the Soviets plan on taking her to you. Call us back when you've done this. We'll be getting ready to fly over in a few hours once we make sure we have the location of the Norwegian research station. Do you already have the name of the station?" Barclay asked.

" _Uh... the Soviets said that Miss Lloyd, Kate Lloyd, was from the Thule Station. They don't know if she was part of their original crew or not. We'll try to find out more in a little bit. Let us know what you find then. McMurdo, out._ " Barclay sat back in the chair and closed his eyes. "Okay... let's look at that map," Barclay said before getting up and walking over to the table where Reynolds had laid down the map.

"There," Caldwell said as he put a finger on the map. "That's Thule Station," he said. "Isn't Thule located in Greenland?" Hendry asked him. "Who cares? Now, where is... there! Outpost Thirty-One," Barclay said as he pointed at the red dot on the map. "They're about eighty kilometers northeast of Thule. That's fifty miles, I think. They're at least a hundred kilometers away from us. And... Lazarev station, that must be the Soviet station we've been hearing about," Barclay said, pointing at another dot.

"They're about one hundred kilometers northwest of Thule station. They're a lot further away, but it looks like there's a plateau, or at least a small mountain area, between Thirty-One and Thule; that might be why Miss America didn't go there," Barclay said thoughtfully. "That's a lot of flying. You guys should probably take a spare fuel canister with you," Reynolds said.

Barclay paused and looked at Reynolds. "Reynolds? Why exactly are you here?" Barclay asked him. "I'm the assistant cook," Reynolds replied. "No. I mean, why are you in this room with us in the first place? What exactly were you coming over here for earlier?" Barclay asked him. "I was gonna ask what everyone wanted to for dinner," Reynolds said.

"Dinner? It's not even noon," Sanchez said. "He's thinking ahead," Hendry said. "That's smart. Getting things ready ahead of time," he added with a smile. "Okay, I'll go get Van Wall and tell him to prep the chopper. Then, I'm gonna go get Atkins. We might need him," Barclay said before grabbing the map and folding it up. He quickly made his way out of the room.

"So, what _do_ you guys want for dinner?" Reynolds asked the remaining people in the radio room.

* * *

 **Over An Hour Later...**

Atkins looked down at his travel gear and made sure that his First Aid kit was fully loaded before he and Barclay stepped out the door. Walking outside, Barclay closed the door behind them as they saw Van Wall loading a spare canister of fuel into the back of the helicopter before securing it with Velcro straps. Van Wall stepped back and looked over at Barclay and Atkins with a grumpy frown on his face. "Do we really have to do this?" Van Wall asked sourly.

"Yes, Van. Now quit yer bitchin' and get ready to move. I have a map with us, and Kinner gave us some food for the trip," Barclay said. "I'm not worried about being hungry. I'm worried about taking the bird on a trip so soon after thawing her out," Van Wall said in return. "Are you saying that the helicopter may not be safe to use?" Barclay asked him.

"Well, no. But I-" "Then we're good to go," Barclay said firmly as he reached for his holstered Colt M1911 and patted it to reassure himself. "We have flares with us, right?" Atkins asked as he got into the helicopter. "Yeah. We have flares. Traffic cones, too. Even a portable street light for mile-high traffic lanes," Van Wall said sarcastically.

"Van, just cut the shit already," Barclay said, annoyed. "Whatever," Van Wall mumbled under his breath as he grabbed his goggles and put them over his face before getting into the front of the helicopter. Barclay walked over to the other side and got in the passenger seat, taking out the map and unfolding it in his hands. "You ready?" he asked Van Wall. "No," Van Wall replied tersely as he began his pre-flight check sequence.

"It won't take us that long to get there, Van. Between ninety minutes and two hours," Barclay said. "I feel _so much better_ ," Van Wall quipped sarcastically. Thomas Van Wall was a large burly man with black hair and a recently trimmed beard. He usually wore an old green bomber jacket that his uncle had given to him ten years prior. Unlike the other members of the Hawke crew, Van Wall was originally born in Canada, but his parents had moved to Wisconsin just a few years after his birth.

The rotor blades soon began spinning, and from inside the upper deck of the station, Commander Hendry looked on. "Good luck, fellas," Hendry said quietly to himself. The helicopter slowly lifted into the air, and soon it turned itself around as it made its way over the white landscape beyond the station.

* * *

Author's Notes: And this is the first chapter of THE THING II: Hawke Station. I was originally going to call it THE THING II: Who Goes There?, but it would seem that someone else has already started a fan fiction story by that name. And, yes, Hawke Station is indeed a reference to Howard Hawkes. Hendry and Carrington are also both taken from the 1951 film as well, and several other characters, such as Barclay and Van Wall, are taken from the original John W. Campbell novella. No, Kate Lloyd will not be making an extensive appearance in this story. She will be present for a small section of one future chapter, and then she'll be whisked away to... wherever.

Anyway, the next chapter features the investigation of Outpost #31 and Thule Station. I guess... let me know what you think of the story so far in your reviews.


	2. Investigation

**THE THING II: Hawke Station**

Disclaimer: John Carpenter's THE THING is property of Universal.

* * *

 **Chapter 02: Investigation**

* * *

Date: Winter of 1982-1983

 **Somewhere Over Antarctica...**

Allison Barclay looked down at the map before looking up again. "We should be there soon," he said to Thomas Van Wall. Van Wall nodded his head in affirmation. In the back of the helicopter, Louis Atkins was taking a power nap. Louis Atkins, the primary physician at Hawke Station, stood at 4 feet and eight inches in height. He was forty-nine years old and had jet-black hair. His preferred winter coat was a dark maroon-colored one with an insulated vest lining the interior.

"Hey, Doc!" Barclay called back to the sleeping passenger, only to receive no response. Looking back, Barclay saw that the man was still asleep. "Doc?" Barclay called out again. Atkins only snored in response. "Make the landing bumpy," Barclay said to Van Wall. Van Wall made no motion signaling that he'd heard Barclay. He simply kept his focus on the land and air ahead of him as they neared a small mountainous area.

"Down there!?" Van Wall soon asked Barclay, who was still holding the map. Barclay looked at the map before looking back out, seeing the dark objects below them. "I... I think so. Take us down closer," Barclay said. Van Wall nodded and began to slowly descend. "Yeah, we're definitely close, but... that can't be Outpost Thirty-One, can it?" Barclay asked himself as he saw the blackened shapes in the snow.

As Van Wall moved the helicopter closer to their destination, Barclay began to feel a sense of unease. "Hey, Bar? Are you sure that you read that map right?" Van Wall asked Barclay asked he carefully brought the helicopter down for a landing in a patch of white near the smoking ruins. "Y-Yeah. I'm sure," Barclay answered him reluctantly.

"Eh-huh?" Atkins asked as he woke up from his power nap. "We already there?" he asked as he sat up and looked around. After the helicopter finally settled, Van Wall started shutting off the rotors. "Just wait a couple minutes," he said. Barclay nodded his head and looked back, past the divide, to see Atkins looking around. "You finally awake?" Barclay asked the man. "I think so. But where the hell are we?" Atkins asked him.

"US outpost number thirty-one, according to the map," Barclay replied as the sound of the spinning blades outside began to die down. "Can we get out?" Barclay asked Van Wall. "Just wait a minute. You don't wanna lose your head because you're too impatient," Van Wall replied. When the whirring finally died, Van Wall gave them the OK to get out. Atkins quickly grabbed his medical gear, while Barclay put on an old army cap, with the insignia removed before getting out of the helicopter.

"You guys want me to come along?" Van Wall asked as he looked around and saw the smoking ruins of Outpost 31. "If you want," Barclay replied before turning around and following Atkins as he made his way over to the smouldering ruins of what was once Outpost #31. Atkins stopped walking just long enough for Barclay to catch up to him.

Atkins pointed at the corner area of the main building, where a small dome could be seen. "That part looks the most intact. If there's anyone still alive, that's where they'll be," Atkins said before marching through the snow. Barclay looked over at the blackened and burnt support struts and walls that littered the area. Walking ahead, Barclay saw that a half burnt and wrecked bulldozer was caught inside a destroyed room of some kind.

"Hello!?" Atkins called out as he made his way over to an opening. Walking around the debris, Atkins soon walked through an open doorway and into an empty hallway. "Is anyone here?" Atkins called out again. He received no response as he slowly made a left turn and walked through the structure, taking note of the broken chairs and splintered bits of wood lying around.

"What in God's name happened here?" he asked himself quietly as he turned a corner. Barclay was close behind as the two men looked around at the damaged interior of the station. Snow was already starting cover various areas that had been exposed by collapsed sections of the roof, and there were broken bottles on the floor. Barclay knelt down near one of them and examined it. "Molotov cocktail?" he pondered out loud.

"Huh?" Atkins asked as he turned around. "Broken glass bottle. Seems burnt. It could've been a Molotov cocktail," Barclay said before he stood up. "This place looks like a bomb went off inside," Atkins said. "A bomb would have a spread of some kind, but this destruction; it looks like each room was blown up one-by-one," Barclay said.

"But _why?_ Why would they blow the station up like this?" Atkins asked as snow gently fell through the holes in the ceiling. Looking up through one of them, he saw the clouds above them. "Let's keep moving," Atkins said, leading Barclay down a corridor with fallen struts and burnt walls. The smell of the burnt material caused Atkins to grimace, but he pushed onward, determined to find any possible survivors and provide medical assistance if needed. "Hello?" Atkins called out again as he stopped in front of a room that had been completely obliterated, with a collapsed roof in front of him and Barclay, and snow piling on top of it.

"Looks like someone fought a war in here," Barclay commented as he looked around at the leaning wall to his left. He heard a creaking sound and quickly pushed Atkins behind him and back into the hallway. "Bar, what are you-" "Get back!" Barclay ordered as the creaking sound became loader before turning into a groan as the wall soon collapsed in front of the men, the middle section breaking in half as the top part was caught by part of the roof, before it soon gave way and the entire wall fell down, taking the rest of the roof with it.

Looking into the room, Barclay and Atkins saw that the middle section of the remaining part of the left wall was now confined to only a small portion near the doorway. "We ain't gonna find anyone in here," Barclay said before he and Atkins doubled back, carefully checking each room, only to find the walls burnt and furniture overturned or blown apart. After twenty minutes of searching that hallway and the destroyed rooms connected to it, Barclay and Atkins rounded the corner again and made their way over to the next section of the building.

Looking up at a sign that was covered in soot, Barclay carefully wiped it off, before the sign fell to the snow-covered floor. "I think this was their infirmary... maybe," Barclay said as he and Atkins carefully made their way inside. Snow had fallen onto the metal tables. Walking around the room, Barclay and Atkins saw that many of the cabinets and drawers had been broken and burnt. "This was deliberate," Barclay said to himself as he saw more broken glass on the floor.

"But... why would anyone do this?" Atkins asked curiously. "I don't know," Barclay said as he looked around. After a few more minutes, the duo exited the Infirmary and made their way into the lab next door. "Same as the others," Barclay muttered as he saw the burnt floors and walls, with holes in the roof. "This place was blown to hell," Barclay said with a grimace.

"No shit, Sherlock. But, I still don't understand _why_ ," Atkins said in frustration as he and Barclay exited the room and made their way through the halls. "You said this portion seemed mostly intact, right?" Barclay asked Atkins as they entered the radio room, which, for the most part, had slightly less damage than the other areas. "It looked that way from the outside," Atkins said sheepishly.

Stepping into the room, Barclay looked around at the burnt and singed radio equipment. He walked a bit closer to the various machines that lined that room noticing how they seemed to have deep cuts in them, as opposed to the flame and explosion-based damage that the rest of the outpost had displayed. Kneeling down next to a fallen cabinet, Barclay saw a fire axe lying around the floor. After a few more minutes, Barclay and Atkins returned to the hallway and made their way down another corridor.

"I think these were the sleeping quarters," Atkins said as he and Barclay looked at the way the doorways had been spaced between each other. Barclay nodded his head in agreement as he and Atkins looked into each burnt and snow-filled room. Only two rooms still had their ceilings intact, and even those had severe damage. "This place is a graveyard," Barclay muttered as he and Atkins turned around and made their way back to the demolished recreation room with the bulldozer.

"I don't understand. Even if everyone here had perished, there should still be some bodies lying around somewhere, right?" Atkins asked. "That's a good point. Even if everyone's dead, where are the bodies?" Barclay asked in agreement, before he saw that the helicopter was empty.

"Where's Van Wall?" Atkins asked. Barclay looked around and tried to see if he could spot the pilot. "Maybe he's near the other end of the building," Barclay suggested. "Near that shack?" Atkins asked as he pointed toward a fallen tower with a wooden shack on its side. As the two men marched forward, staying near the exterior of the building, Barclay heard Atkins yelp as he fell over. "Doc, you okay?" Barclay asked as he rushed over to the man's side.

Barclay quickly helped pull Atkins up from the snow. "What happened?" Barclay asked him. "I tripped. Over what, I don't know," Atkins said before he reached back down to grab his bag of medical gear. Barclay stepped forward to help him when he felt pressure underneath his boot, causing him to step back and kneel down. He started feeling for something in the snow, before wiping it away with Atkins' help.

Soon, the two men found themselves staring at a burnt corpse. "Well... I guess we found someone," Barclay said dryly. "Who is it, though?" Atkins asked curiously. He and Barclay searched the burnt remains for any sign of ID. "Nothing. Whoever he was... we'll have to find out later," Barclay said as he stood back up. Atkins grimly nodded in agreement.

"Come on, Bar. Let's go find Van Wall," Atkins said, before he saw Barclay looking over his shoulder. Atkins turned around and saw Van Wall kneeling on the ground near an exposed part of the rec room, on the other side of the bulldozer. Walking closer, the two men saw that Van Wall was inspecting the remains of what looked like a bar. In front of him, however, were two snow-covered and frost-bitten bodies, both sitting opposite of each other.

"What have you found?" Barclay asked the pilot. "I think they were part of the crew," Van Wall said as he pointed to the two snow-covered bodies in the snow. One of them, a bald black man, held a flamethrower, while the other one, a white man with a beard and a cowboy hat, had a large blanket around him, and the tip of a flamethrower could be seen underneath and opening in the fabric. A green glass bottle of J&B Rare Blend was sitting between the two men, empty.

"Any idea who they are-err- _were?_ " Atkins asked. "They're dead," Van Wall said. Barclay looked at the two men and solemnly nodded his head. "Yeah," Barclay said as he knelt down next to Van Wall and reach over to the beared man's jacket, unzipping it to feel for a pulse. Van Wall was right, however, as the man was dead. Cold and blue, the man could answer no questions, except for his identity as Barclay opened one of the pockets on the man's jacket and retrieved a set of dog tags.

"R.J. MacReady," Barclay read out loud. He looked over at the other corpse. "Alright, who're you?" Barclay asked as he felt around for some kind of dog tag. "Nothing," he said after a minute of searching. Barclay stowed the dog tags in his pocket before standing back up. "We'll leave them here for now, and pick them up on the way back," Barclay said.

"Way back?" Van Wall asked him. "From the Norwegian camp," Barclay clarified. "We're still going?" Van Wall asked him. "Yes, Van. We're still going there. We have a job to do, now go make sure that the helicopter has enough fuel before we take off again," Barclay said in response. Van Wall sighed in consternation before turning around and walking back towards the helicopter.

As Atkins stood up, he looked over at the rest of the rec room before his eyes widened and he saw some shapes over by the bulldozer's side. Near what was clearly an overturned pool table were two burnt corpses, both of which were almost unrecognizable, but they were human nonetheless. Atkins walked over and saw that one of them had earrings stuck in a charred ear. "I can't believe I missed 'em earlier," Atkins said to himself.

"Speaking of which, I'm gonna go back over that way again and see if there's anything by that end of the building," Barclay said as he carefully made his way out of the remains of the rec room and trudged through the snow, making sure to step around the burnt corpse when he got near it. This caused him, however, to step on something else. Pausing in his journey, Barclay stepped back and reached down into the snow, picking up what looked like the burnt frames of someone's eyeglasses.

Looking back over at the burnt corpse, Barclay moved over and gently placed the eyeglass frames into a spot on the corpse where they would hold. Frowning at the sight, Barclay sighed and stepped away, once again making his way towards the other end of the station. After a few minutes of careful trudging through the snow, Barclay came upon a somewhat intact portion of the structure. He looked up and saw that the second-story structures on the roof were still intact, albeit somewhat damaged.

Looking at a large hole in the wall, which had clearly been blown outwards from within, Barclay marched forward. Stopping just outside the opening, Barclay carefully peeked inside and looked up for any signs of structural damage from within. When he was satisfied that the building would not collapse on him, he cautiously stepped forward and moved around what seemed to be an empty and burned out storage room.

Looking over, Barclay saw what seemed to be an electrical access panel on the far side of the wall near a doorway. The door had been blown off its hinges, and was lying in pieces on the floor between Barclay and the other end of the hallway. Stepping over to the blown apart doorway, Barclay hesitantly stepped through, bringing out his flashlight and shining it throughout the room, until he found an overturned refrigerator. _That thing doesn't look too badly damaged. There could be something in there that might clue us in on what happened here_ , Barclay thought to himself.

Stepping over to the fridge, Barclay hefted it up with all his might and placed it on its side before opening it. As the doors opened, he saw a small case with a lock on it. Taking it out, he found that the lock was in good condition, but the key was missing, at least until he looked over at the inside of the open fridge door and saw the key taped to it. Grabbing the key, Barclay unlocked the lock and opened the case, seeing an audio cassette recorder inside, along with an audio tape sealed in a plastic bag.

Barclay quickly locked the case back up and carried it with him as he resumed his search through the wreckage of the station. After a few more minutes, Barclay turned back and made his way outside. He saw Van Wall talking to Atkins over by the rec room, pointing at the bodies on the ground. Barclay quickly marched over to their location and cleared his throat to get their attention.

"How's our fuel?" Barclay asked Van Wall. "We haven't passed the PSR* yet, so we might make it to the Norwegian camp before the fuel tank needs to be re-filled," Van Wall said. "Okay. Keep an eye on it. Once we get to the Norwegian camp, though, I want you to refuel the chopper regardless of fuel levels," Barclay said. Van Wall nodded his head in affirmation before heading back to the helicopter.

Barclay then turned his attention to Atkins, who was looking over the burned remains of the two men near the broken pool table on the floor. "Find anything on them?" Barclay asked Atkins. "This one's missing his forearms," Atkins said as he pointed to the shorter of the two men, whose right and left forearms were indeed missing.

"Do you think it happened before or after he was burned?" Barclay asked Atkins. "Before. Those are the only obvious wounds that I can see. As for the other one... I may have to take him back to the lab so I can perform an autopsy. I'd like to take all of these bodies back with us, if we can," Atkins said in response. "Maybe on the trip back," Barclay responded.

"Bar... I don't know if you've noticed, but these two men were burned differently from the one outside. Now, the roster for Outpost Thirty-One listed twelve men for the winter. So far, we've only found five bodies. We're still missing seven others," Atkins explained. "Well... all things considered, the remaining bodies might be buried under heavy snow, or they might be lying in pieces and we just missed them," Barclay said as he glanced at the burnt and ruined remains of the research station around them.

It was at this point that Atkins finally noticed the case that Barclay was carrying. "What's that?" Atkins asked him. "This? Well... hopefully something that can shed light on what happened here," Barclay said. Atkins walked over to inspect the case, noticing the lock and keyhole. "Do you have the key for it?" he asked Barclay. "Yeah. It was inside an overturned refrigerator at the other end of the camp," Barclay replied.

"This is real weird," Atkins muttered to himself as he thought about Barclay's words. He looked back down at the two frozen corpses on the floor of the bar, and then back to the case in Barclay's hands. "What did you say is in this case?" he asked Barclay. "An audio cassette player, along with an audio tape," Barclay replied. "Keep that safe until we return to Hawke," Atkins said. Barclay nodded his head. "I intend to. It may be the only record of what happened here," Barclay added.

"Hey! Are you guys ready!?" Van Wall asked from the helicopter. Barclay and Atkins looked at each other. "It's gonna be a long trip. If we wanna get back to Hawke before too long, we need to head over to the Norwegian camp _now_ ," Atkins said. Barclay nodded his head before turning around and walking over to the helicopter. Atkins took one last look behind at the destroyed rec room and the bodies on the ground before making his way back to the helicopter, following Barclay through the snow.

* * *

 **Hawke Station...**

Charles Hendry walked into the radio room and looked at Caldwell sleeping in his chair, while Sanchez was nowhere to be found. "Caldwell?" Hendry asked as he walked over to the sleeping man. "Caldwell," Hendry said with a frown. "Caldwell!" he shouted, waking the man up. "Huh!?" Caldwell asked in confusion. "Have you heard back from McMurdo yet?" Hendry asked him. "Yes. I sent Sanchez out to find you half an hour ago," Caldwell said.

"Well? What did they say?" Hendry asked him. "They said that the Soviets are gonna take Dr. Lloyd to Vostok Station. They'll stay there for the night, and then they'll make their way to McMurdo tomorrow morning," Caldwell said. Hendry frowned at this information. "Do we have any storms heading our way?" he asked Caldwell. "Ask Stiles or Silva. _Those guys_ are meteorologists," Caldwell retorted.

"Silva spends too much time with his damn cameras to be a weatherman," Hendry spat. "Hey, it's his field," Caldwell said. "Could've fooled me," Hendry said. "Hey, Hendry! I've been looking all over for you!" Sanchez said as he returned to the radio room. Hendry and Caldwell both looked at Sanchez with flat expressions on their faces. "What?"

* * *

 **Thule Station...**

Barclay and Atkins stepped out of the helicopter and looked at the snow-covered remains of the Norwegian research station. "Talk about deja vu," Atkins said with a frown. He and Barclay both started walking over to the nearest building, trudging through the snow as they looked for any signs of survivors. "Same shit as Thirty-One," Barclay muttered as he saw the blown apart walls and doorways of the station.

"Should we even bother?" Barclay asked rhetorically. "Yes," Atkins said firmly as he made his way over to one of the few intact-looking entrances. The door was open, but it didn't seem to be burnt like the rest of the station. Stepping into the dark hallway, Atkins shone his flashlight down on the ground. "Hey, Bar!" Atkins called out. Barclay quickly jogged over to the doctor's side. "What? What is it?" Barclay asked him worriedly.

"Footprints," Atkins said as he shined the light on the floor. Snow and frost had covered the floor, but it was apparent that someone had been there after the structures were damaged. "Do you think they're still here?" Barclay asked him. "No. These look like they've been here for a while, but I doubt they were made before this place was torched," Atkins said. "Are you sure?" Barclay asked him.

"Not one hundred percent, but that's the way it seems," Atkins replied. "I didn't know you were a crime scene analyst," Barclay said. "I'm not. Now come on, let's move," Atkins said as he followed the shallow boot prints through the snow and ice-filled halls of the desolate research station, its burned remains offering little clues to the two men of the horrors that its inhabitants had experienced little more than a week earlier. The two men soon came upon a door with an axe stuck in its frame.

"Okay," Barclay said flatly with a raised eyebrow as he inspected the door. Walking inside the room beyond the door, the two men soon found the snow and ice-covered rooms to have suffered similar fates to those of Outpost 31. Soon, the two men came upon what appeared to be the radio room, along with the frozen corpse inside. Inspecting the man in the chair, Barclay and Atkins both noticed the frozen blood descending from the man's wrists and throat.

"Suicide," Barclay stated. "Why? What the hell happened here?" Atkins asked in a horrified manner. Barclay looked the corpse up and down before he saw an opening to another room, with barren desks and tables. "Let's keep moving," Barclay said shakily. With every new discovery, more and more questions began filling his head. "Bar... I don't think we're going to find any survivors," Atkins said in a defeated tone.

"Probably not," Barclay agreed grimly. "Still, we should at least check out the place and see if we can find any clues. Outpost Thirty-One had a tape recorder hidden in a fridge, so maybe someone left something behind here too," Barclay said as he continued moving forward, occasionally reaching to his gun's holster to reassure himself of his own safety.

"I don't think you're gonna need that," Atkins said after Barclay patted his holster for the third time. "I'd rather be safe than sorry," Barclay said before he and Atkins exited the rooms and returned to the hallway. "Let's check up there," Atkins said, noticing a doorway near the end of the hall. The two men quietly moved forward, hearing only the sound of their foot steps and their own breathing as they moved through the ruins of Thule Station.

Entering the room, Barclay and Atkins walked onto a landing next to a short wooden staircase in what had once been a storage room. Inside the room, however, was a large block of ice, with the middle portion having been excavated. "Well, _this_ is new," Barclay muttered to himself as he walked down the wooden stairs. Atkins followed him and walked around the large block of ice in the center of the room, examining it closely.

"Something was inside it," Barclay said as he stepped closer and got a better look at the excavated section. "A fossil of some kind?" Atkins pondered out loud. "Maybe. Let's keep looking for another thirty minutes, then we'll head back," Barclay said. "Are we stopping back at Outpost Thirty-One when we're done?" Atkins asked him.

Barclay looked at Atkins pensively, weighing the option in his head. "I don't know. I'll let you know when we've finished searching this place," Barclay replied before he made his way out of the room and back into the empty and burnt hallways of the main building. Making his way outside, Barclay noticed Van Wall entering the other building. Barclay quickly marched through the snow to catch up to the helicopter pilot.

"Hey, did you refuel the chopper?" Barclay asked him. Van Wall turned around to look at him and nodded his head. After you guys went inside that building over there. Have you found anything, or anyone, so far?" Van Wall asked him. "We found a frozen corpse in the radio room. Poor bastard slit his own wrists and throat," Barclay relayed. "Christ," Van Wall muttered in response.

"So... are we heading straight back to Hawke Station, or do you want to stop back at Outpost Thirty-One to collect those bodies?" Van Wall asked Barclay. "I think... we'll head back to Thirty-One, grab the bodies, and then haul our asses back to Hawke Station. I wanna come back here tomorrow, though," Barclay said. "Uh-huh. So-wait, what? Bar, just what the hell do you wanna come _back_ for?" Van Wall asked him.

"I want Silva out here with his camera. If we're gonna find out just what happened, then we're gonna need to start collecting evidence, and taking pictures," Barclay explained to the pilot. Van Wall rolled his eyes before letting out a sigh. "Okay. Fine. I'll fly us back out here tomorrow, but you'd better make sure that you collect _everything_ that you need on the way back today and tomorrow. The days are getting shorter, Bar, and I don't like flying at night. Not in the winter," Van Wall said.

"Fair enough. Let's check out whatever's left of this place and then get Atkins. We'll be leaving soon enough anyway," Barclay said before he joined Van Wall in exploring the burnt down structure.

* * *

 **Hawke Station, A Couple Hours Later...**

Geologist Martin Crenna looked up from the book he was reading as Jim Stiles and Harvey Jordan started arguing like children over who had one their most recent card game. "It was a winning hand!" Jordan declared. "Was not! My hand was better, and you know it!" Stiles shot back. "Boys, boys. Please, you're _both_ terrible at card games, so give it a rest," Crenna said gently.

Crenna's attention was soon drawn over to the main entrance of the rec room as Sanchez walked inside, marching past Pomroy and Ralsen at the pool table and heading straight for the bar. "Hey, Tom? You okay?" Crenna asked him. Martin Crenna was a man in his sixties, with black hair that was turning gray in many places. His forehead had wrinkles, along with his wrists and hands, which were calloused from age and hard labor. His brown eyes, though, were as sharp as an eagle's, and his hearing was still decent enough. He also had a crooked nose, and a few metal fillings in his mouth; a result of having an uncontrollable sweet tooth. He also had two small earrings on his left ear near the bottom lobe.

Ignoring Crenna's question, Sanchez walked straight over to the bar, grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass, and then poured it. He shot it straight back into his throat, one after another, before he was satisfied. "Um, Sanchez? Try leaving some of that for the rest of us, okay?" Bill Lambert said as Sanchez turned around and leaned back against the banister of the bar.

"Like hell. I fucking needed that," Sanchez said tiredly. "I swear, if Hendry doesn't back off, I'm gonna take my microphone and ram it down his throat. Or, better yet, I'll shove it up his ass," Sanchez spat. "What are you talking about?" Crenna asked him as he placed a bookmark in his book and set it down before getting up from his chair. "Hendry... has been _hounding_ me and Caldwell for the past several _hours_... to constantly call up McMurdo and ask them about the 'Commies' that rescued what's-her-name from the freezing cold! I'm sick of it! Every five goddamn minutes, Hendry wants to know what the Soviets are up to, like we're the FBI or something!" Sanchez ranted.

Lambert walked over to the bar and grabbed a bottle of bourbon before pouring himself a small glass. He looked over at the rest of the group and brought out a few more empty glasses. "Anybody else want some? I mean, if he's got more to say, I think we all might need it," Lambert offered before taking a swig of his glass.

"Any time I leave for the bathroom, Hendry wants to know why I left my post! Any time I grab a bite to eat, he wants to know what I've heard! What's McMurdo saying? Where are the commie devils? God _DAMN!_ " Sanchez ranted. The other station personnel in the room quickly converged on the bar and took Lambert up on his offer.

A minute later, as Sanchez continued his rant, Victor Silva and Dillon Walters both entered the room, whereupon everyone heard the sound of an approaching helicopter outside. Looking out through the windows at the sky as it was beginning to set, the group saw the helicopter returning from its trip. "Finally, now Hendry can bother someone else," Sanchez muttered as he exited the room, followed by the others as they all grabbed jackets and coats from the wall-mounted racks near the doors.

Exiting the building, the group watched as the helicopter slowly set down, waiting for the blades to eventually stop spinning before cautiously making their way over to the opening doors of the vehicle. Barclay stepped out first, with Atkins opening the doors of the passenger area and calling for the group to grab stretchers from the infirmary. "What did you guys find out?" Pomroy asked Barclay. "I'll tell you when we get inside," Barclay responded tiredly.

 **The Infirmary...**

The bodies of the two men from Outpost 31 had been laid out on separate examination tables by Atkins and Thorne, while Carrington and Connant had made their way over to the room to see what the commotion was about. Eventually, the rest of Hawke Station's crew had also made their way into the infirmary. "You couldn't find anyone else?" Carrington asked Barclay and Atkins as he looked at the two frost-bitten bodies. The flamethrowers had been removed from the men and were currently undergoing inspection by Dutton, to ensure that the fuel tanks weren't in danger of rupturing or exploding.

"The only other bodies were burned up too bad," Barclay replied as he leaned against one of the counters. "How many did you find?" Hendry asked him. "Five. We found five bodies, these two included," Barclay replied. "Wait, the roster said there were _twelve_ men stationed at Outpost Thirty-One," Arnold Thorne said.

Arnold Thorne, the station's assistant physician, was a much younger man than Atkins, and had short black hair and dark skin. He was the only black man at Hawke Station for the winter, as the other three men had already departed weeks earlier to catch a flight out by McMurdo. Thorne also had a small mustache, and a gold filling, having lost a tooth years earlier after slipping on a wet floor and chipping one of his teeth, requiring total removal of the tooth at the time.

"What happened to the other seven?" Thorne asked. "Don't know. We couldn't find the bodies anywhere, but given how much snow there was, it's possible that the others are somewhere either outside the wreckage or buried under the rubble," Barclay said. "Wreckage?" Hendry asked with concern. "Bar, what did you find at Outpost Thirty-One?" Hendry asked him seriously.

"There isn't much of it left," Barclay stated. "The place was burned to the ground. Some parts of the structure were intact, but the place is basically a grave now. There's no chance of finding survivors. Never was," Barclay clarified. "How long have these men been dead?" Lambert asked as he looked at the bodies.

"Almost a day, at least. No residual warmth or anything," Atkins spoke up. "We would've had to have flown out _yesterday_ to have any chance to saving them, if even that," Atkins elaborated as he started looking for some form of identification on the bodies. "Bar, didn't you find some dog tags on the one guy?" Atkins asked. Barclay shifted before reaching into one of his pockets to pull out the dog tags he'd found.

"Which one do they belong to?" Hendry asked. "The one with the beard," Barclay replied. "R.J. MacReady," he said out loud as he looked at the bearded man's body. "Van says that he was probably their helicopter pilot," Barclay added, pointing at the flight jacket that MacReady was wearing, along with the cowboy hat behind his head.

"What's with the hat?" Silva asked as he looked over the body. "That reminds me," Barclay said as he snapped his fingers. "Silva, I'm heading back out there tomorrow, and you're coming with me," Barclay told him. Silva looked at Barclay with wide eyes. "Wait, me? Why me?" Silva asked him curiously. "We're going to conduct a more thorough investigation of the two camps, and I need that camera of yours," Barclay explained.

"You can take my spare, if you'd like," Silva offered. "No, Silva. I need someone with an eye for detail; someone who'll see something I might miss when I look around," Barclay said. "Plus, I want you to take pictures the two camps," Barclay added. "Wait, two?" Silva asked him. "Hey, that's right," Caldwell said. "Yeah. What did you find at the Norwegian station then?" Hendry asked Barclay.

"Same thing. Place was burned down. We only found _one_ corpse at the Norwegian camp, though. Radio operator had slashed his wrists and his throat. He'd been dead far longer than any of the guys at Outpost Thirty-One," Barclay replied with a solemn sigh. "How many people were station there?" Hendry asked him.

"I don't know. We'd have to check the roster for that one, or maybe contact McMurdo," Barclay said. "Do it yourself. I'm sick of constantly checking in with McMurdo today," Sanchez spat, glaring at Hendry while he did so. "What's _your_ problem?" Barclay asked. "Were there any Soviet weapons found at the camps?" Hendry asked, prompting Barclay to look at him incredulously.

"No," Barclay said firmly. "No sign of any Soviet activity. I don't think they're involved," Barclay added, keeping his gaze locked with Hendry's. "Are you sure? No tracks? No clothing, or hats or any-" " _No_ , Hendry. There was no sign that anyone other than the stations' own residents had been involved," Barclay said firmly, frowning at Hendry in annoyance.

"Ah-ha!" Atkins said as he pulled the front of the other corpse's pants down. "You seem really excited to see another man's undergarments, Doc. Is there something you'd like to tell all of us?" Ralsen asked him. "I found his name," Atkins said. "Childs. It's stenciled on his boxers," he explained to the group. "Congratulations, Atkins," Barclay said sardonically.

"I'm gonna go back and call McMurdo; let them know what we've found," Caldwell said with a sigh before turning around. "Wait for me, Bart," Barclay said as he walked around the examination tables and followed after the heftier man. "Don't forget to mention the block of ice!" Atkins called out. Barclay nodded his head before disappearing into the hallway.

Everyone turned their attention to Atkins. "Block of ice?" Stiles asked him. "At the Norwegian camp," Atkins clarified. "Wouldn't a block of ice melt inside of a burning building?" Silva asked him. "The room was frozen over, with frost on everything and a hole in the roof. I don't think it was touched when everything else went to hell," Atkins explained.

 **The Radio Room...**

"Yes, we investigated both camps," Barclay said. " _You're sure that they're both destroyed? Any idea what caused it?_ " the McMurdo operator asked him. "Fire. Explosions? I found evidence of Molotov cocktails and it looked like someone had raided several crates of dynamite at the American station," Barclay said. " _Any idea why it happened?_ " the operator asked him. "No idea at this time. We'll be continuing our investigation tomorrow. I'll have someone bring a camera along so that we can gather evidence better. One more thing: I found an audio cassette recorder hidden inside a refrigerator at Outpost Thirty-One. I'm gonna listen to it tonight or tomorrow and see if it offers any clues as to what the hell happened," Barclay said.

" _Okay. Doctor Lloyd should be here by tomorrow evening. We'll convene with you over the radio after she arrives to help put this story together,_ " the operator said. "Wait, who?" Barclay asked him. " _Say that again?_ " the McMurdo operator asked him. "I asked you who's Doctor Lloyd?" Barclay asked.

" _She's the American scientist that the Soviet's picked up. The woman from the Norwegian camp? The reason this whole investigation got started in the first place?_ " the operator reminded him. "Oh. Sorry," Barclay said ashamedly. Caldwell merely shook his head in disappointment at the man. "Okay. So, I'll be heading out tomorrow morning to continue the investigation, and then I'll contact you guys in the afternoon or in the evening to hopefully speak with this Doctor Lloyd and find out what she knows. Hawke Station, out," Barclay said before ending the broadcast.

"You didn't tell any of us about this tape that you found," Caldwell said in admonishment to Barclay. "I didn't think to tell anyone at the time. It's still out in the chopper. I'm gonna go out there and get it in a few minutes," Barclay responded as he spun in his chair. "By the way... how much has Hendry been hawking on you guys about the Soviets today?" Barclay asked.

Caldwell grimaced as he mentally recalled the day. "A lot. Let's put it that way: a lot," Caldwell said with a facetious smile. "Every time we'd leave to go to the bathroom, he'd be on us, wondering why we weren't constantly asking McMurdo about what the Soviets are doing with Doctor Lloyd or they'd heard anything else about her from the Soviets. I was just about ready to knock him upside his head when you guys got back," Caldwell explained.

"Hn. Let Sanchez sleep in tomorrow morning, just an hour longer than usual," Barclay said as he got up from the chair and walked over to the doorway to the main hallway. "And take it easy for the rest of the night," Barclay said as he glanced back at Caldwell before exiting the room. "Oh, by the way," Barclay began as he walked back into the room, "What are Kinner and Reynolds cooking up tonight?"

"Some kind of rib roast, I think. It's either that or spaghetti... again," Caldwell replied with a frown and a sigh as he reclined into his chair. "Hm. Well, fortunately for me, I like _both_ options," Barclay said with a smile before exiting the room again. "Good for you," Caldwell said dryly as he spun around in his chair. He then wheeled the chair over to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

"After the day I've had," Caldwell said to himself, "I need this."

* * *

Author's Notes: Okay, so as you may have noticed, there hasn't been any Thing action so far. That's because I'm making this a slow burn story. Right now, I'm focusing on how the men of Hawke Station are dealing with the mystery of what happened to Outpost 31 and Thule Station, allowing me to also develop their characters and backstories so that each one can have more distinct personalities. This way, when everything goes to hell, you readers can hopefully be more invested in the story than if I didn't develop these characters.

And, as always, let me know what you think of the story so far in your reviews.


	3. A Word Of Warning

**THE THING II: Hawke Station**

Disclaimer: John Carpenter's THE THING is property of Universal.

* * *

 **Chapter 03: A Word Of Warning**

* * *

Date: Winter of 1982 - 1983

 **United States Antarctic Research Outpost "Hawke Station"**

" _Nobody... Nobody trusts anybody._ " Barclay hit the STOP button on the cassette player before looking down at the notes he'd written. He pressed the PLAY button again and finished listening to the last bit of the log. "So, he _was_ the helicopter pilot," Barclay said after the tape ended. He carefully rewound the cassette back to the beginning before taking it out of the player and sticking it back in its plastic bag.

Leaning back against his chair, Barclay sighed and rubbed his face. He jotted down a few more notes in his notebook before closing it and getting ready for bed. "Body-snatching aliens. What's next?" he asked himself incredulously. Barclay was now starting to convince himself that the crew of Outpost 31 had simply gone stir crazy or had instead suffered from a severe case of cabin fever. Still, the block of ice from the Norwegian camp _did_ cast a shadow of doubt on his thoughts.

Sighing in frustration, Barclay decided that he would be better off waiting until morning to try figuring out just what had happened. MacReady's tape, while illuminating at first, had soon become a source of frustration, as Barclay found it difficult for himself to believe anything that had been recorded. "When did the world stop making sense?" he asked himself.

* * *

 **DAY 02**

* * *

"There's nothing wrong with these men, physiologically I mean," Atkins said as he looked at the blood results. "No alcohol. No drugs. No visible trauma to the head. Just frost-bite from below-freezing temperatures," he added as he looked Barclay and Hendry in the eyes. "Then the problem must have been mental. They had to have gone crazy somehow," Hendry said solemnly.

"Caldwell said that Doctor Lloyd would be delivered to McMurdo this afternoon, right?" Barclay asked Hendry. "Yes. That's what we were told," Hendry replied with a nod of his head. "We can ask her what happened at the Norwegian camp later," Barclay said. "I'm gonna go find Van Wall and Silva. We're taking a trip back to Thirty-One and the Norwegian camp," he added.

"You said there were still three more bodies over there, right? You plan on bringing them back with you today?" Hendry asked him. "Maybe. See, last night, I was listening to that audio cassette I found at Thirty-One," Barclay said. "Audio cassette? What audio cassette?" Hendry asked him. "You didn't tell anyone about it?" Atkins asked him.

"It kind of slipped my mind after we got back," Barclay replied. "Alright, so, what did you hear on it?" Hendry asked him. "Well, it was recorded by our helicopter pilot over here," Barclay said as he pointed at the body of R.J. MacReady. "He said that the whole incident started when two Norwegians chased a sled dog to their station. They were in a helicopter, and one of them was shooting at the animal. Everything just goes downhill from there," Barclay explained.

"What else did it say?" Hendry asked him. "He said... he said... I really don't know how to say this, but everyone at the station got it into their heads that they had been infiltrated by alien doppelgangers," Barclay said. Atkins and Hendry looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Hey, I'm not the one who said it," Barclay pointed out, defending himself. "Aliens? Little green men from outer space?" Hendry asked him.

"Not little green men; monsters that can perfectly imitate other life forms, apparently," Barclay clarified. Atkins snorted. "Like the body snatchers? Eh? Like Invasion of the Body Snatchers?" Atkins asked him incredulously. "Doc, you were at the camps. You _saw_ the destruction at both places. We can't make light of this," Barclay said.

"Bar? Are you saying that you _believe_ this mad man's ramblings?" Hendry asked him. "I don't know right now, okay? But I do know that the Norwegians found something buried in ice. I do know that the Norwegians then burned down their camp and apparently either killed themselves and each other, and two of the three survivors decided to hop into a helicopter and chase down a sled dog with a rifle," Barclay shot back. "And I most definitely know that shortly afterward, Outpost Thirty-One descended into chaos and paranoia. Now, I don't know what caused it, and I refuse to accept that a shape-shifting alien did this without any proof. But I do know that we have a duty to continue investigating this incident until we _do_ know exactly what happened. So, in a couple of hours, I'm heading back out there," Barclay said.

"MacReady mentioned in the tape that he flew out to a crater that the Norwegians had been studying a few miles northeast of their camp. When we're done at the camp, we're gonna check it out," Barclay added before he turned around and left the infirmary.

* * *

"Bar, are you serious?" Van Wall asked Barclay as he fueled the helicopter. "Van, listen to me," Barclay said. "I _am_ listening, Bar. I just don't see the point," Van Wall replied. "You know about the ice block, but none of us know where the Norwegians _found it_ ," Bar explained. "You just told me that they took it from a crater a few miles away from their camp. What's there to figure out?" Van Wall retorted.

"Because I want to know what else was found in that crater," Barclay said. He remembered MacReady's words on the audio cassette, but he had to see for himself if the man had been telling the truth or if he had actually gone crazy. He _needed_ to know the truth.

"Fine," Van Wall said with a sigh. "But with all of this flying in one day, I'm gonna need to bring a spare fuel _drum_ ," Van Wall said. "I saw some spare drums lying around the American and Norwegian camps yesterday," Barclay said. "Bar, those could all be empty. Hell, they could be booby-trapped! I don't wanna take that risk," Van Wall said. "Fine. keep the spare fuel drum. But I don't wanna hear you complain about the extra weight," Barclay said. "Fair enough," Van Wall said in response.

"And use the bathroom before we take off. I don't wanna hear you whining about that either," Barclay said before turning around and heading back inside. "Sure thing... jackass," Van Wall muttered under his breath.

* * *

 **Thule Station...**

Silva let out a breath as he carried his camera out of the helicopter. "Yikes," he said as he surveyed the destruction. "What happened here?" he asked as he carefully trudged through the snow. "Before you start out here, there's something inside that I want you to look at," Barclay said as Silva began setting up his camera's tripod. "Strap the tripod to your back or something, but keep that camera steady in your hands," Barclay said.

"Okay, but which building are we going into? You said 'inside' so I assume you're talking about the inside of one of these buildings," Silva responded. "It's inside that building over there," Barclay said, pointing at the snow-covered building that he and Atkins had explored the previous day. "Come on, I'll show it to you," Barclay said before he started walking over to the building. Silva nodded his head and carried his camera as he trudged through the snow behind Barclay.

Entering the building, Silva looked around at the frost, ice, and snow-covered walls and floors with a sense of unease. Silva took careful steps forward, looking down at the floor to check for ice and holding a gloved hand to one of the walls for support. "How far ahead is this thing that you want me to see?" Silva asked Barclay. "It's at the far end of the building," Barclay replied.

"Right," Silva muttered softly as he crept through the hallway. He looked around at the burnt walls and singed surfaces of the various doors and objects that were scattered about the rooms of the station as he and Barclay moved closer to their destination, until Silva saw the door with the axe in it. He turned around to look at Barclay with a curious expression. "Hey, I didn't do it," Barclay said in response.

Silva turned back around and continued his trek through the building, stepping into the next room. "Actually, it's a bit further up... ahead," Barclay said as Silva made his way over to the radio room. Silva wordlessly began prepping his camera. "Save the film for-" "Quiet, Bar. I'm concentrating," Silva said before he took a handful of pictures from multiple angles.

Silva then proceeded to study the room with both his naked eyes and his camera, not taking pictures, but merely surveying the room. He walked over to a nearby desk and looked at the various tables. "Someone else has been here," Silva said, pointing out the way that the snow had been brushed aside on certain parts of the floor and a few of the tables. "Probably the guys from Thirty-One," Barclay said.

"Uh-huh. You said back in the chopper that you listened to an audio cassette that one of them made. What all did they say about this place, if they were the first ones to investigate, that is?" Silva asked him. "MacReady said-" "Who?" Silva asked him. "The guy who made the tape. He was one of the bodies that Atkins and I brought back yesterday, remember?" Barclay clarified. "Oh, right. Dog tags. Sorry," Silva replied sheepishly. "Anyway, MacReady said that he and Copper, the station's physician, flew over here to investigate the place after a crazed Norwegian flew over to Thirty-One and tried to kill a sled dog," Barclay explained.

Silva turned around to look at Barclay in surprise. "The Norwegians... tried to kill a sled dog?" Silva asked him. "That's what the guy said in the tape. Two Norwegians on a helicopter, one of whom blew up the chopper and himself with a grenade while trying to kill the dog," Barclay explained. He found himself more willing to believe the earlier portions of MacReady's audio tape than the later portions, as those portions still had some semblance of reality in them.

"What about the other one?" Silva asked him. "The tape said that the other one shot at the dog with a rifle, hit some guy named Bennings by accident, and was then shot dead by Garry, the station commander," Barclay relayed to him. "This seems like a pretty long tape," Silva said. "It is. I'll play the whole thing for everybody after we get back later. You guys can listen to it while I get on the radio with McMurdo this evening," Barclay said.

When Silva was done surveying the radio room, he and Barclay moved on to the next one, before eventually coming across the hallway that led to the storage room. Silva stepped over to the banister and looked at the ice block curiously as Barclay walked up beside him. "This is what I was talking about," Barclay said. "A giant block of ice?" Silva asked him incredulously.

"Look at it," Barclay said to him, pointing at the top portion. "Oh, I see now," Silva said as he started getting his camera ready. As he began setting up the tripod, he noticed the holes in the roof of the room. Grabbing his camera, Silva, looked through the lens at the largest of the holes. "Find something?" Barclay asked him. Silva looked at Barclay before looking back up at the roof, before finally looking at the excavated portion of the ice block.

Barclay's curiosity was piqued when he saw Silva frown as he looked at the roof. "Bar... did you and Atkins touch that ice block at all?" Silva asked him. "Only the outside," Barclay replied. "Atkins thinks that the Norwegians dug something out of there, like a fossil or something," he added.

"That hole in the roof is directly over the open section of the ice," Silva noted. "Think maybe they hit a gas pocket in it?" Barclay asked him. "I don't... I don't think so. Bar... what else was on that tape?" Silva asked him. Barclay fixed Silva with a frown. "The Norwegians found something buried in the ice, something that was measured at being there for thousands of years. I don't want to believe what I've heard until I see proof, though," Barclay said cryptically.

"Proof? Of what?" Silva asked him. "I'll tell you when we find the crater," Barclay replied vaguely. "Yeah, that's really going to help me," Silva retorted. "Look, just... just take pictures and document this," Barclay growled. Silva rolled his eyes at Barclay before adjusting his camera on the tripod.

* * *

 **Back At Hawke Station...**

Marvin Pomroy, the station's dog handler, looked over one of his malamutes for signs of ear infection. Marvin Pomroy was a relatively thin man with a clean-shaven face and curly black hair who was in his mid-thirties. "There. That wasn't so bad," he said before scratching the dog's head. "Yeah, who's a good boy?" Pomroy asked the dog heartily. "That's right, you are. Now get outta here," he said as he pushed the dog away and motioned for the next dog to come over. "Come on, Sykes. Get over here," Pomroy said. The dog lowered his head in a worried manner. "Don't give me that look," Pomroy said before gesturing towards the dog again. Sykes reluctantly made his way over to the small stool where Pomroy had set up his veterinarian kit.

"There we go," Pomroy said as he carefully took a hold of the dog's head and tilted it as he looked around the dog's ear, checking for signs of infection or adverse effects from the weather. Pomroy soon perked his head up when he heard foot steps and looked over to the kennel's entrance to see Eric Kinner, the station's head cook. "Eric," Pomroy said in acknowledgement. "Pomroy," Kinner replied courteously. "Do you need something?" Pomroy asked Kinner. "Just wanted to know if you want me to set something aside for the dogs tonight," Kinner said.

"Sure. Just, uh, make sure that there's enough for all of them, but nothing spicy. Remember last Tuesday?" Pomroy reminded Kinner. Kinner's face blanched briefly as the memories of the horrible incident returned to his mind. "Yeah. I-I remember," he said. "Good. I don't wanna have to clean up a mess like that in the kennel again, you hear?" Pomroy prompted him. "Hey, I hear ya man," Kinner said before turning around to walk away.

"Wait!" Pomroy called out. "What?" Kinner asked him. "What happened to last night's leftovers?" Pomroy asked Kinner. "We still have those. Did you want me to prep some of them for the dogs?" Kinner replied. "A small amount. Not too much, though," Pomroy said before he resumed inspecting Sykes as Kinner briskly walked away.

 **Storage Room #03/Makeshift Exercise Room...**

Samuel Dutton lifted the dumbbells with a grunt before setting them back down. "Congratulations, Sam. You've done fifty of those. May I please leave now?" Walters asked him as he handed Dutton his towel. "Sure. Cry-baby," Dutton replied. "I'd like to get back to the greenhouse," Walters snapped as he turned around. "You and your plants," Dutton muttered.

"Those plants are valuable," Walters retorted as he walked away, just as the door opened and Ralsen entered the room along with Sanchez. "Have fun," Walters said dismissively as he left the room. "What's up with him?" Sanchez asked Dutton. "He likes plants more than people," Dutton snarked.

"Eh, let 'im go. Someone has to keep an eye on those Mary Janes we planted a while back," Ralsen said with a smirk. "I still don't understand how you convinced him to let you plant those in there," Dutton said as he wiped his head and arms with his towel. "One word," Ralsen said before holding up a finger. "Money."

* * *

 **Back At Thule Station...**

Barclay and Silva exited the remains of the final burnt building, having spent nearly three hours inspecting the station for clues and taking pictures. Barclay was holding a map in one hand as he and Silva returned to the helicopter. "I just don't get it," Silva muttered sourly. "No bodies, except the radio guy, and all of the vehicles are missing," he said.

"All of the vehicles at the American camp were wrecked too," Barclay said. "I'm sorry, but I don't think we're ever going to figure out what happened here," Silva said to Barclay, shaking his head. "Well, we've got one more stop," Barclay said as he opened up the map and showed Silva the coordinates on it. "Five to six miles northeast of here, just like the audio log mentioned. We've gotta check it out," Barclay elaborated.

"Okay. You're the boss," Silva said in defeat before opening the helicopter doors and getting inside. "You guys ready?" Van Wall asked as he walked over to them. Barclay quickly looked over at the cockpit before looking back at Van Wall. "Where the hell were you at?" he asked the pilot. "I was over that way, taking a leak," Van Wall replied before stepping over to the cockpit door and getting inside.

Van Wall looked over at Barclay. "Well? Are you getting inside?" Van Wall asked him. Barclay silently made his way over to the other side of the cockpit and got in, closing the door and strapping in as Van Wall went through his pre-flight sequence before starting up the helicopter again. "You know, I heard Stiles say that we're supposed to a get another storm in a few days," Van Wall said.

"Uh-huh," Barclay said, nodding his head. "Whatever we're doing out here needs to get finished up before then. I'm not flying us around in stormy weather," Van Wall said before he finished his pre-flight check and began lifting the helicopter off of the ground. "I get ya. I wouldn't ask you to either," Barclay said in understanding.

The helicopter slowly ascended and began making its way northeast of the Norwegian camp as Barclay relayed the coordinates on the map to Van Wall. "It shouldn't take us too long to get there from here," Barclay said to the pilot. "Right. What's supposed to be at this dig site or whatever again?" Van Wall asked Barclay. "Some kind of crater, like I told you earlier," Barclay replied. "Yeah, but what's in the crater?" Van Wall asked as he flew them near some small mountains.

"We'll just have to see when we get there," Barclay replied vaguely. He could still remember MacReady's words on the tape, and this last trip would determine whether or not the man had actually gone crazy or if he had been telling the truth on his hidden cassette. The rest of the flight was quiet, until Van Wall asked Barclay to look at the map again.

"Did I pass it?" Van Wall asked. "No, we just have a little... wait, I see the crater," Barclay said. Snow had already filled in and covered whatever was in the deep section of it, but Barclay had also noticed a large snow mound with a snowcat next to it. "Take us down, near that snowcat," Barclay said. Van Wall nodded his head and slowly began their descent.

Several minutes later, after landing and waiting for the rotor blades to stop moving, Barclay and Silva departed from the helicopter, along with Van Wall. "It looks burnt," Silva observed as they moved closer to the vehicle. "It's been here a while," Barclay said as he noticed the snow that had covered some of the vehicle.

"Lucky you even noticed it at all," Silva said as he walked over to the side of the vehicle and saw the open door. Silva looked down and saw the rim of a flamethrower's hose sticking out of the snow near the passenger-side door of the vehicle, before looking back up as he walked closer to the open door. "Geez, this thing is..." Silva trailed off when he noticed the burnt corpse in the seat of the snowcat.

"Bar!" Silva cried out, motioning for the man to hurry. Barclay quickly jogged over to the spot where Silva was standing. "What? Did you find some...one?" Barclay asked as he looked inside the open door and saw the burnt body. The man's face seemed contorted in pain, but there was something off about his mouth. The entirety of the body and his clothes were severely burnt and crisp.

The entire inside of the cabin had been torched, in fact, with the instrument panel showing signs of the weaker components having melted and warped from the heat. Barclay stepped away from the roasted interior before he glanced over at the ridge near the crater. "Vic, take a handful of pictures, and then join me over by the rim of the crater. I'm gonna check something out," Barclay said before walking away from the snowcat.

"Um, what? You see a burnt body inside a vehicle and you just _walk away?_ " Silva asked him incredulously. "Just do it," Barclay said sternly as he continued his march. After finally approaching the rim of the crater, Barclay had to blink a few times before the sight in front him fully registered. His eyes widened as he realized what exactly he was looking at.

No sounds came out of Barclay's mouth as he processed what he was seeing. He was only shaken out of his stupor a few minutes later when Silva finally placed a gloved hand on his right shoulder. "Okay, what did you... want?" Silva asked as Barclay looked at him before pointing at the nearly obvious object in front of them. Silva turned his head and looked out, squinting as he saw a small object standing upright, almost looking like a hatch of some kind out in the center of the crater. "The hell is that?" Silva asked, before Barclay pointed elsewhere.

Silva followed Barclay's directions, looking at the perimeter of the crater, before he finally realized what Barclay was showing him. Silva quickly pulled up his camera and looked through the lens in order to make certain that he was seeing things properly. "You're shittin' me. This... this is real?" Silva asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," Barclay replied softly, still in a state of shock at his discovery. "Bastard was telling the truth," Barclay muttered, MacReady's tape recording still fresh in his mind. "Silva, start taking pictures. I want them to span the whole circumference of this thing. We're gonna show everyone what we've found when we get back," Barclay said, trying to stay calm.

A few minutes later, as Silva was taking pictures, Van Wall walked up to them. "Hey, Bar? We need to get moving in about an hour or so. Days are getting shorter that further we get into Winter," Van Wall said. Barclay turned to look at him. "Hey, Van? What's your opinion on other life in the universe?" Barclay asked him. "Huh?" Van Wall replied, confused. Barclay motioned for him to step closer, before pointing out at the crater.

Van Wall looked around the crater, before he finally realized that he was looking at a snow-covered space ship. Van Wall turned to look at Barclay before looking back out at the ship. "Well, now I've seen everything," Van Wall said with a nervous chuckle. "You know what this means?" Barclay asked him. Van Wall looked at Barclay with a raised eyebrow.

"We've... solved the... um, puzzle?" Van Wall asked him hesitantly. "Sort of. How long until we need to leave?" Barclay asked Van Wall. "If you wanted to check this thing out, you'll have to come back tomorrow. We only have a couple hours before the sun starts setting, and I wanna get back before it's too difficult to see properly. I can help you grab that body from the snowcat back there, if you wanna bring something back with us," Van Wall replied.

Barclay looked over his shoulder before turning his head to look at the ship again. "Yeah. Tomorrow sounds good. Silva! Keep taking pictures until you're out of film. We're gonna need proof when we get back," Barclay said. Both Van Wall and Silva nodded their heads in silent agreement.

* * *

 **Hawke Station, Hours Later...**

"Bullshit," Ralsen muttered as he leaned back against the wall of the rec room. "I saw it. It's real," Van Wall said. "Where's your proof?" Crenna asked him. "Silva's in the dark room developing the pictures right now," Van Wall replied. A minute later, Barclay walked into the room, carrying the cassette player and audio tape that he'd found at Outpost 31 the previous day. "You all can listen to this while I'm in the radio room," Barclay said.

"What is it?" Lambert asked him. "It's an audio cassette," Harvey said snidely. "I know _that_ ," Lambert retorted. "I found it at Thirty-One. It's got some stuff that you guys might need to hear, especially with what we found today," Barclay explained. "Have you already listened to it?" Pomroy asked from the pool table. "Yes. It's a record of what happened at Outpost Thirty-One. It doesn't cover _everything_ that happened, but it does explain how things got started, to a degree, anyway," Barclay replied.

Just then, Sanchez entered the doorway of the rec room. "Hey, Bar. Caldwell's got McMurdo on the line. The Soviets just arrived a short while ago with that scientist," Sanchez said. "Okay, I'll be right over," Barclay responded with a nod of his head. "Well, I trust all of you know how to use this, so... have fun," Barclay said before turning around and leaving the room.

"Uh, wait! Bar, if you've actually found a real... space ship, then I wanna check it out," Carrington said. "Oh, come on!" Dutton chided him. "Well, I _am_ heading back out there tomorrow with Silva to take more pictures of the ship. I guess you could come along," Barclay said after a moment of consideration.

"Another day of flying," Van Wall muttered. Barclay stopped and looked back at him. "Tell you what. Harvey, why don't you fly us over there tomorrow?" Barclay suggested. Harvey looked at him incredulously. "Are you serious?" Harvey asked him. "Yeah. Van Wall's been busting his ass for two days in a row already. How about you give him a break and do some flying instead?" Barclay asked him.

"Fine. Just bring a map with us," Harvey said reluctantly. Barclay took one last look around the room before leaving. "So, who wants to play the cassette?" Dutton asked the others. "I'll do it," Crenna offered as he walked away from the pool table and over to the smaller card table where Barclay had laid the cassette player.

 **The Radio Room...**

Bart Caldwell turned around as he saw Barclay enter the room. "Yeah, he just got back. Here," Caldwell said before getting up from his seat and letting Barclay sit down. "This is Captain Barclay of Hawke Station, come in McMurdo," Barclay said into the microphone.

" _This is McMurdo. Hello again, Captain Barclay._ " "Okay, how long ago did the Soviets arrive with Doctor... uh, Lloyd?" Barclay asked over the radio. " _Just an hour or so ago. Did you want us to go get Doctor Lloyd right now?_ " the McMurdo operator asked him. "What's her status? I mean, how awake is she? Is she in any condition to speak?" Barclay asked them in response.

" _I can send someone to find out_ ," the operator replied. "Please do so. I'd rather not speak to her if she isn't lucid," Barclay said. " _Gotcha. I'll send someone to go find her. In the meantime, how's the investigation coming along?_ " the operator replied. "Well... we found a large crater a few miles from the Norwegian camp," Barclay said carefully.

" _A crater? Did you find anything inside?_ " the operator asked him. "We found something large and possibly metallic in nature. We're, uh, gonna go back out tomorrow to perform a proper inspection. We didn't have enough time to look at it properly today. It looked to be round in shape. Could be a frozen mineral deposit or something. We'll let you know tomorrow evening," Barclay lied. _I don't need people to think I'm crazy just yet. At least not before I can gather more evidence of this thing,_ Barclay thought to himself.

A few minutes later, the McMurdo operator relayed Dr. Lloyd's status to Barclay. " _She's lucid. A bit tired from traveling, but she's fully cog-uh, cough-um, yeah, lucid. In fact, she's in the room right now with me and one of the reds. You wanna talk to them first?_ " the McMurdo operator asked him. "Does he speak English?" Barclay asked. " _He's the translator,_ " the McMurdo operator replied.

"Sure. I'll speak to Doctor Lloyd when I'm done with him," Barclay said. " _Okay. Here ya go,_ " the operator said before a minute of silence took place. " _He-Hello. My name is Vassili. Doctor Lloyd is in good health. We have not harmed her,_ " the Soviet scientist said. "Hello, Vassili. My name is Barclay. What can you tell us about the condition that Miss Lloyd was found in?" Barclay asked the Soviet.

" _Cold. Doctor Lloyd was cold. Her thiokol was run-running on fumes when she arrived at base. She did not speak for two days,_ " Vassili relayed. "Mm-hm. Did you attempt to investigate the Norwegian research station when she told you about it?" Barclay asked them, looking over his shoulder to see Hendry standing in the corner, watching and listening.

" _No. We could not. Doctor Lloyd woke only hours before a large storm arrived. Travel was not safe until storm was over,_ " Vassili responded. "Understandable. Why did you guys decide to take her to McMurdo instead of somewhere closer?" Barclay asked. " _We believed it would be best to take American scientist to American territory. A show of goodwill,_ " Vassili replied.

"That's a fair point, I suppose. Do you plan to investigate the Norwegian research station after you return to your own station?" Barclay asked him. " _We have not made any decisions yet. We do not wish to raise alarms by accident,_ " Vassili replied. Barclay nodded his head in silent agreement. "Okay. Vassili? Listen. I, and the rest of Hawke Station, are already investigating the Norwegian research station, as well as an American outpost nearby. Contact was lost with the American outpost shortly before the most recent storm," Barclay said.

Hendry stared at Barclay in confusion as he listened to him. "Near the Norwegian camp, there is a large crater. A dig site, where the Norwegians found something in the ice. Tomorrow, I am taking a flight over to that location to perform a more thorough investigation. When you and your comrade arrive back at, um, the Soviet station, please attempt to contact us for a possible joint-effort," Barclay said, causing Hendry's jaw to drop in disbelief.

" _Doctor Lloyd said that she and the Norwegians found something in the ice. She did not... explain much about it. She only talked about... infection of some kind, spreading through Norwegian camp,_ " Vassili explained. "Infection? May I please speak to Doctor Lloyd now? There are some questions that I would like to ask her," Barclay requested.

" _Yes. She is here,_ " Vassili said before Kate's voice came out over the radio. " _H-Hello?_ " Kate asked shakily. "Hello, Doctor Lloyd?" Barclay asked. " _Yes. You... wanted to ask me some questions?_ " Kate asked him. "Yeah. I'd like to know how long ago you and the Norwegians found that... thing in the crater," Barclay asked her. " _Crater?_ " Kate asked. "Yeah. Large, round, and metallic. You should know what I'm talking about," Barclay responded.

" _We found it a little over a week ago,_ " Kate replied. "Okay. How many people were at the Norwegian camp?" Barclay asked her. " _Um... there were about ten people stationed there, in addition to myself, Carter, Griggs, Adam, Sander, and Derek,_ " Kate replied. Barclay raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Um... who?" he asked her. " _Carter, Derek, and Griggs were American helicopter pilots. Adam was also an American scientist, working along with Sander, who insisted on taking the core sample that woke it up,_ " Kate explained, causing more confusion for Barclay.

"Wait, woke _what_ up?" Barclay asked her. " _The... thing... in the ice. It... I don't know how to explain this without sounding like a crazy person,_ " Kate said. "Doctor Lloyd, at any point during the time you spent at the Norwegian camp, was any contact made with US Outpost number thirty-one?" Barclay asked her. " _N-Not that I can remember,_ " Kate replied shakily.

"You said that there was an infection spread by what was found in the ice. Can you please elaborate on that for me?" Barclay asked her. " _I-I... I don't want you to think I'm crazy. A-After what I went through, I just..._ " "You can ask the others to leave the room while we talk. I'll ask the people here to leave me alone as well. We'll both have privacy, but please be aware that I _will_ be taking notes," Barclay said as he grabbed a pen and a notebook.

Caldwell walked over and motioned for Hendry to follow him as Barclay looked at the both of them. "No secrets," Hendry said firmly before turning around and leaving the room, closing door behind him. "Okay, I'm alone now. Doctor Lloyd, what did you find in the ice?" Barclay asked her. " _Just-Just a moment. Vassilli and the others are leaving. They've left now. Please, tell me you won't say anything until I've explained the whole story,_ " Kate begged.

"Look, Doctor Lloyd, I've already seen the ship and the block of ice at the camp. You found something from outer space, right?" Barclay asked her. There was a moment of silence before Kate replied. " _Y-Yes. It... it's like a-a virus. A living virus of some kind. It enters your body and takes you over from the inside. It... it killed and... a-assimilated everyone except Lars, Matias, and... Colin,_ " Kate explained. "Colin? Who's Colin?" Barclay asked her. " _He... he was a British radio operator working at Thule Station,_ " Kate explained.

"Wait... the corpse wasn't Norwegian?" Barclay asked her. " _C-Corpse? Oh god, Colin... he-_ " "We found him in the radio room. He'd slashed his wrists and his throat. He was holding a razor in his left hand. He'd been dead for over a week by the time we'd arrived," Barclay explained. " _Oh my god. He... he was still human. He was still... why?_ " Kate asked shakily. "I have no idea. Maybe you can tell me a bit more about the others and what happened. I mean, who are Lars and Matias, for example?" Barclay asked her in response.

" _Lars... he was the station's dog handler. His dog... his malamute was killed by the-oh my god we forgot to burn it! Oh god, we forgot to burn its body after it was attacked!_ " Kate cried in realization. "H-Hold on! Listen, listen! Just calm down for a minute. Take a deep breath and tell me about Lars. Not the dog, not yet. Just Lars," Barclay requested firmly.

" _He... he was the dog handler. He was the only one there who didn't speak English. He-He understood English well enough, but he didn't s-speak it. Have you... Did you find him at the camp when you investigated it?_ " Kate asked him. "Negative. Who's Matias?" Barclay asked her, the gears slowly grinding in his head as the early portions of MacReady's audio recording began playing in his mind.

" _Matias was the station's helicopter pilot. I-I'm pretty sure that was his name. Anyway, he'd left the station for a short period before everything... went to hell. I-I don't know when or if he returned to Thule after I'd gone after Sander,_ " Kate explained. "Wait, who was Sander again?" Barclay asked her. " _Sander... he was a Danish biologist. He was the one who recruited me to join his team at Thule Station. He was the one who insisted on taking a core sample of the thing in the ice. He was the second-to-last person that the... Thing... assimilated,_ " Kate explained, trying to hold back sobs.

"Who was the 'last' person?" Barclay asked her. " _Carter. He... he must've been attacked by Sander after we'd split up. We... we chased Sander to the ship, and... we got separated. He-He must've been attacked by Sander afterward,_ " Kate explained tearfully, her voice choking up over the radio. "How-I mean, when did you... realize that he was... no longer himself?" Barclay asked her carefully.

" _In the snowcat. His ear piercing was missing. When we'd gone after Sander, it was on his left ear, but after he found me, it was gone. When I mentioned the piercing, he reached for his right ear. That was... that was how I knew,_ " Kate explained. "What do you mean? So, he forgot which ear was pierced after he lost it. That somehow made it okay for you to _set him on fire!?_ " Barclay asked her. " _W-What? How... how did you_ -" "We found a burnt corpse in a snowcat earlier today at the crater. I'm guessing that was Carter, right? Sorry, Ma'am, but that corpse is completely human. No abnormal body parts or extra limbs or anything," Barclay said.

" _No! I heard it's screams when I torched it! It wasn't human! That thing wasn't Carter! It wasn't Carter!_ " Kate reiterated over the radio. "And just how do you know? How does a switched ear piercing prove anything?" Barclay asked her. " _Because it can't replicate inorganic matter!_ " Kate exclaimed. "Okay, take a deep breath, calm the hell down, and explain this to me. I have two burned down research stations, over twenty people dead or missing, and a crashed alien space ship buried in the ice. I'm a little overwhelmed here, so please help me out by _trying_ to remain calm," Barclay demanded sternly and irritably.

He heard Kate take a few breaths over the radio as she tried to calm herself before speaking to him again. " _O-Okay. This thing cannot... when it assimilates someone, it only replicates organic matter. Flesh, blood, bones, sure. But something like a metal nose ring or an ear piercing? It can't replicate that. Tooth fillings were how we determined who was human and who... was suspect,_ " Kate explained. "But... if somebody didn't have fillings to begin with, that didn't automatically make them an imposter," Barclay said.

" _Right. But it was the only way to be sure. This thing absorbs other life forms and imitates their organic body structure. When it imitates a human who's missing a tooth, it's not going to imitate a hole in their mouth, because losing a tooth in an accident or to poor dental hygiene isn't something you'd find in someone's genetic code. It'll replicate them with a full set of teeth, and any fillings they had will be gone, pushed out and left somewhere in a bloody mess,_ " Kate explained as calmly as she could, remembering how she had found the bloody mess in the shower before Derek and Carter's helicopter crashed.

"Okay, so what about people who don't have any tooth fillings or body piercings? How do you tell is they're still human?" Barclay asked her. " _We... I don't know. Adam and Sander were working on a test when the crisis started, but when they left the lab alone, someone destroyed their work and set the rest of the lab on fire. I... I don't know any other tests. I'm sorry,_ " Kate replied.

"Thanks. Although... I'm kind of surprised that you haven't asked me why I'm taking this so easily, to be honest. You haven't asked me how I've managed to not laugh at you or anything. Why is that?" Barclay asked her after the thought occurred to him. " _Well, you mentioned having seen the ship earlier, as well as the ice block at Thule Station. I figured... that meant you at least believed me about the existence of an alien life form,_ " Kate explained.

"Okay, well... there's one other reason I'm not outright dismissing your claims, Doctor Lloyd. Do you remember what I said about Outpost Thirty-One?" Barclay asked her. " _You asked me if any contact had been made with them. Why?_ " Kate asked him. "Well, I think that your friends Lars and... uh, Mathew, or Matias? Was that his name?" Barclay asked her. " _Yeah. M-Matias. I-I'm pretty sure it was,_ " Kate replied as she remembered reading the English version of the station's roster shortly after her arrival at Thule.

"Well, your friends Matias and Lars both apparently managed to make their way to Outpost Thirty-One a week ago," Barclay said. " _The-They did? Are they okay? Is Lars all right?_ " Kate asked hopefully. "Well, do you remember the other thing I said earlier? About _two_ research stations being burned down?" Barclay asked her.

" _N-No. Oh god. Out-Outpost Thirty-One? Did... what happened?_ " Kate asked him. "Well... you said earlier that your friend's dog was attacked by the... alien, and that you forgot to burn it. According to an audio log I found in the wreckage of Outpost Thirty-One, that dog was assimilated by your alien and was then chased by two Norwegians in a helicopter. I'm assuming that those two Norwegians were your friends Lars and Matias, so... they, uh... they're both dead," Barclay said bluntly.

" _Oh... oh god, Lars. H-How... do you know how he died? Anything at all?_ " Kate asked him fearfully. "Well, apparently he died pretty quickly, compared to everyone else. Your friend started shooting at the dog when he arrived, and he shot one of the Americans by accident, which caused the station commander to shoot him in the head. At least, that's what the recording said," Barclay relayed to her.

There was silence on the radio for another minute, causing Barclay to wonder if Kate was able to speak anymore. "Um, if it helps, he _probably_ suffered the _least_ out of everyone who died," Barclay said in attempt to calm the now-silent woman on the other end. " _Th-Thank [sniffle] you. W-What about... Matias?_ " Kate asked him. "Uh... he blew himself up by accident... along with the helicopter," Barclay replied. He looked down at his notes and saw that a lot of it was disjointed. He frowned.

"Look, Doctor Lloyd, I've seen the ship, but... how about you start over, from the beginning? Just tell me what you witnessed. Start from when Sander first contacted you and go from there. I've got all night," Barclay said as he turned over the page in his notebook and prepared to start again.

 **Two Hours Later...**

"Thank you, Doctor Lloyd. Now, get yourself some rest. I've... I've got a lot to think about tonight. Please, put me on with the regular McMurdo operator, though," Barclay requested as he looked up from his rather extensive notes. A minute later, the usual operator's voice spoke over the radio. " _So, that must've been some chat you guys had. What did you learn?_ " the operator asked.

"A lot. I got her version of what happened at the Norwegian camp. Tomorrow, I'll stop over there one more time before checking out the crater we found. I should be able to confirm her story, now that I know what evidence to look for... if any of it is still there. This is Hawke Station, out," Barclay said before ending the radio call. At that moment, Caldwell and Hendry entered the room again.

"So... how'd it go?" Caldwell asked. Barclay turned around in the chair and looked at both men with a weary sigh and a tired expression on his face. "I need a goddamn drink."

* * *

Author's Notes: Okay, so... no Thing action yet. But, we're getting there. When we finally do get some Thing action, I can guarantee that it will cause the rating to change from T to M. Anyway, in the next chapter, the crashed alien ship is finally explored.


	4. A Brief Glimmer

**THE THING II: Hawke Station**

Disclaimer: John Carpenter's THE THING is property of Universal.

* * *

 **Chapter 04: A Brief Glimmer**

* * *

Date: Winter of 1982 - 1983

 **DAY 03**

 **United States Antarctic Research Outpost "Hawke Station"**

Barclay looked on as Atkins, Thorne, and Connant began their autopsy of the burnt body of Sam Carter. Thorne, wearing surgical gloves and using tongs, carefully removed Carter's gloves from his hands. "He's burnt all over," Thorne stated as he scanned Carter's corpse.

"Why, exactly, are we doing this again?" Atkins asked Barclay as he retrieved a scalpel. "Just something that Doctor Lloyd said last night that's been bugging me," Barclay replied. "You mean the whole alien imposter thing?" Thorne asked, having listened to the audio cassette in the rec room with the others the previous night.

"Something like that," Barclay said as he crossed his arms and watched the three men perform the autopsy. "Say, Bar, weren't you planning to go flying back to that crater today?" Thorne asked as he looked up from Carter's burnt corpse. Connant was busy cutting open the man's jacket and removing it from his burnt limbs.

"I will, but first... I just need to have something verified. I may end up having Van Wall fly the spare helicopter over to the camp while Harvey flies me and Carrington over to the ship," Barclay said. "You really think that what you saw was actually a space ship?" Connant asked him dubiously. "I do. It's covered in snow, but I know a saucer when I see one, and that thing was a goddamn saucer. It had a hatch opened on it, from what Silva's camera could see," Barclay replied firmly.

"Well, you'll have to get Dutton to hook up the spare helicopter to the tractor if you wanna use it. That thing's been sitting in that garage for eight months now. It's gonna need a tune up," Connant remarked. "Could you please pay attention to the body?" Atkins asked Connant with a glare. Connant shrugged his shoulders before returning his attention to task at hand.

Thorned sighed before looking back over at Barclay. "Bar, if you're gonna get that second chopper prepped and get out to that crater on time... you may wanna leave now. If you don't catch Dutton before he finishes his morning workout, he's gonna be at the bar with Harvey, and you won't get that thing prepped until tomorrow," Thorne said. "Duly noted. Just make sure to keep your autopsy recorded in some manner," Barclay said.

"Bar, if we're gonna do an autopsy on all of the burn victims, maybe you should stop by Thirty-One and bring back those two bodies we saw near the bulldozer," Atkins said as he grabbed a flashlight and peered into Carter's charred mouth. "Fine. I'll go get started. Anyone seen Hendry this morning?" Barclay asked before he left the infirmary.

"Nope," Thorne said. "Check the kitchen," Connant said. "I'll do that," Barclay said before walking out the door. Atkins sighed and looked back down at the burnt corpse he was inspecting. "What is he expecting us to find?" he asked rhetorically. "Something out of the ordinary," Connant said as he prepared to make an incision with his scalpel. "Both of you stand back. I need some room," Connant said as he gently pressed the scalpel to Carter's chest. "Here we go," he said.

 **Storage Room #03/Makeshift Exercise Room...**

Samuel Dutton lifted the dumbells up again with a grunt, before he heard the door open. He glanced over to see Barclay walking over to him. "Mornin' Bar. What's on today's agenda?" Dutton asked him as he put down his weights and sat up. "Sam... please get the spare helicopter pulled out of the vehicle garage," Barclay requested.

Dutton looked at Barclay and blinked at him in confusion. "Um... what?" Dutton asked him. "You heard me, Dutton. I want that chopper pulled outside and ready to go by noon," Barclay said. "Aw, you've gotta be kidding," Dutton protested. "I'm serious. Come on. Get up and get dressed for the outside. I need Harvey to be sober today. Where is he right now?" Barclay asked as Dutton stood up.

"Probably at the bar. If you hurry, you might catch him before his second drink," Dutton replied bitterly. "Thanks. Where are Ralsen and Lambert?" Barclay asked. "I don't know. Go find them on your own," Dutton replied with a frown. Barclay turned around and exited the room, leaving a very bitter and angry Dutton swearing under his breath.

 **The Dining Room...**

"And it hasn't been opened yet. So, I figure, we could all watch that on movie night, if Walters' DiscoVision machine is working properly. Don't know why he likes it so much. I've had to fix it for him eight times now," Ralsen said between bites of oatmeal. "Well, I guess you can always become a home video repairman when you get back home," Lambert said as he ate his pancakes.

"Eh, maybe," Ralsen replied with a shrug. "I mean, you've certainly got the training," Lambert joked. "Yeah, for something that hardly anyone uses," Ralsen said in response. "Well, maybe it'll catch on one day," Lambert said. "I doubt it," Ralsen said before taking another bite of his oatmeal. "So, if the DiscoVision doesn't work, do we go back to the VCR, or just... cancel it until next week?" Lambert asked him.

Before Ralsen could reply, Barclay entered the room. "Finally. Ralsen, Lambert," Barclay said. "Barclay, Ralsen," Lambert said with a smirk. "Lambert, Barclay," Ralsen said snarkily. "Look, I need the two of you to help Dutton get the spare helicopter out of the vehicle garage and get it prepped for flight by noon," Barclay said.

Lambert and Ralsen both stared at Barclay. "Uh... mind if we finish eating first?" Ralsen asked him. "It's important," Barclay said. "Yeah, and so is breakfast," Ralsen retorted. "Fine. Finish eating, and afterward, get your asses suited up and head outside to the vehicle garage. I'm having Harvey fly us out to the ship today," Barclay said.

"Wait, us?" Ralsen asked him. "Me, Silva, and Carrington," Barclay clarified. "Oh. Well, why do you need the spare helicopter?" Lambert asked him. "I need Van Wall to fly out to the American camp and grab the charred corpses we found, and then head over to the Norwegian camp to grab two other bodies that I learned about last night," Barclay said. "Geez, I thought you were giving Van Wall the day off," Ralsen commented.

"Change of plans," Barclay said before turning around and leaving the room, bumping into Walters by accident. "Hey, careful there, Bar. I almost spilled my coffee on ya," Walters said as he backed away and walked around Barclay. "I wouldn't worry. That decaf shit don't burn as much as _real coffee_ ," Ralsen commented with a grin.

"Yeah, why don't I pour this in your eyes so we can test that?" Walters suggested, shooting a smirk back at Ralsen. "Just finish your meals and get ready," Barclay said before walking away, leaving the three men to themselves. "What's up with Bar?" Walters asked. "He wants us to get the spare chopper ready by noon," Lambert said. "Why?"

 **The Rec Room...**

Silva looked at the reactions on the faces of Crenna and Harvey as they looked at the photographs that he'd taken yesterday. "See? It's real," Silva said. Hendry reached over and grabbed another picture off of the table. "So it is. I can't believe Bar wanted the Soviets to work together with us, though. Idiot," Hendry muttered.

"Oh, come on," Carrington sniped at Hendry. "Look, if the Soviets get their hands on something like this, do you even know what could happen?" Hendry asked them bitterly. "The human race may experience a growth in scientific knowledge and technology," Carrington said with a smile.

"How wide is this thing?" Stiles asked as he looked at a picture. "Looks like maybe a mile in radius-no, maybe diameter?" Crenna said as he inspected the pictures. "Well, we'll be able to measure it properly when we arrive at the site later today," Carrington said with an enthusiastic tone in his voice. "You really can't wait to get your hands on this, can you?" Stiles asked him.

"Nope. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. This whole thing could get caught up in red tape after the investigation into the two camps is progressed, and I don't want to let it slip through my fingers," Carrington said. "Nearly twenty people are dead or missing, and all you care about is a big hunk of metal?" Hendry asked him, disgusted.

"Well, excuse me for wanting to find a silver lining in this situation," Carrington shot back with a glare. "You guys just make sure that Bar keeps his Colt loaded. Just in case those reds show up at the site," Hendry said. "Please, their station only has one helicopter, and it's currently at McMurdo right now," Caldwell said as he placed a picture back on the coffee table before grabbing another one.

"I still don't like it. They're only fifty miles away from the site. They could easily drive there in a thiokol," Hendry said. "Aw, poor baby. Afraid that the reds might turn out to be human when they find this thing and _don't_ blow us up after all?" Harvey said as he picked up a bottle of whiskey.

"Harvey, put the bottle down," Barclay said as he walked into the rec room. "Huh?" Harvey asked him. "You're flying me out to the crash site today, remember?" Barclay stated. "Oops," Harvey said with a shrug of his shoulders. "No oops, Harvey. Get some coffee and sober up," Barclay said sternly. "Honestly, I'd rather _not_ be sober today," Harvey said dryly.

"That's too bad. Get your shit in order and get ready to leave in one hour," Barclay said. "Yes _sir!_ " Harvey said sarcastically as he performed a mock salute. "Where's Van Wall? There's been a change of plans, and I need him to fly the spare helicopter out to Outpost Thirty-One today," Barclay explained before leaving the room to go find Van Wall.

"What crawled up his ass and died?" Stiles asked. "Who knows?" Caldwell said as he went back to looking at the pictures. "Well, Harvey, I guess you'd better get sobered up soon," Carrington said as he turned around to face the partially inebriated pilot. "Aw dammit," Harvey muttered before setting his whiskey bottle back down.

* * *

 **Two And A Half Hours Later, At The Crater...**

Barclay secured his harness and looked down at the snow-covered surface of the alien ship below. "Here goes nothing," Barclay said quietly to himself before he began rappelling down the side of the ridge, eventually making his way onto the metal surface of the vessel. He looked to his side and saw that Carrington was already unlatching the hook from his harness.

Looking back up, Barclay saw Silva slowly making his way down with his rappel equipment, taking special care to keep his camera safe. "I'm gonna go on ahead and-" "No, Doc. You're gonna stay here until Silva gets down. We aren't gonna take any risks by splitting up just yet," Barclay said as he watched Silva slowly rappel down the side of the ridge.

"Two hours later," Carrington said sardonically as Silva finally reached the ship's surface after ten minutes of careful rappelling. "Okay, I'm good," Silva said as he disconnected himself from the rappel gear and prepped his camera. "You may wanna leave the tripod stand out here, Silva," Barclay said. "You sure?" Silva asked him in response. "Yeah. Pretty sure. I think your hands are steady enough," Barclay replied.

"Okay, just let me take the tripod back up to the chopper," Silva said as he reached for his rappel gear. "No! No, no! You-You can leave it out here. No one is going to steal it," Carrington said in protest. Barclay glanced at Carrington before nodding his head in agreement.

"Yeah, I think Carrington's right about that," Barclay said with a sigh. "Okay," Silva said reluctantly as he began detaching the camera from the tripod. "Alright, let's move," Silva said after he finished. The trio soon made their way over to the opened hatch on the ship.

Carrington kneeled down next to the circular opening and looked inside. "There's been a lot of snowfall recently," Carrington said as he pulled out a large flashlight and shone it into the hole. "Yeah, down in there. Snow's been building up in certain areas," Carrington noted. "Does it look safe to climb, though?" Barclay asked him.

"Only one way to find out," Carrington replied as he stood up and carefully positioned himself over the open hatch. He kept his flashlight in one gloved-hand and carefully reached forward to grab what looked like a ladder. "Aliens use ladders?" Silva asked. "Maybe it's a common design throughout the universe. Just be glad that they _have_ one," Barclay said as Carrington carefully climbed down the alien ladder, slowly brushing snow off of each handle as he stepped further and further into the alien ship.

Stopping every few steps, Carrington slowly waved his flashlight around, shining its light on the interior of the vessel. "Well?" Barclay asked him after his third wave-set. "Well what?" Carrington asked him as he continued his descent. "What's it like?" Barclay asked him.

"It's dark and cold," Carrington replied as he looked up, before returning his attention to the bottom of the ladder. "There seems to be another hatch inside. This might be an... an airlock!" Carrington called out as he looked around, seeing the frost-covered interior of the circular room he was in. There were engraved symbols on the walls, although Carrington had no idea what any of them meant. He recognized some basic geometric shapes, such as circles, triangles, and rectangles, but to an alien culture, those symbols could have had very different meanings in their arrangements than humans would expect.

"Silva! Get down here with that camera," Carrington called up. Barclay looked down at Carrington, who was about thirty feet beneath them, before looking at Silva. "Well, you heard him," Barclay said. "One small step for man. One giant-" "Just get down there already," Barclay interrupted. Silva shot him a glare before stepping over the hole and carefully grabbing onto the handles of the ladder. He kept his camera, an Olympus OM2-N MD, in his hands, even though he had it attached to a leash that went around his shoulders.

When he finally arrived at the bottom of the room, Silva looked around the room, preparing his camera and checking the light measurement that it provided. "I knew getting an OM-Two-N was a good idea," Silva said to himself as he took three pictures of the room. "Okay! I'm coming down!" Barclay hollered before grabbing onto the ladder and descending to the bottom. When he arrived at the bottom, Barclay looked around before shining his flashlight on the floor, seeing the various geometric shapes engraved onto the floor.

"Hey, Carrington, what do you make of this?" Barclay asked the physicist as he knelt down and ran a gloved hand over the shapes, brushing away errant snow patches. Eventually, he and Barclay came upon what seemed like a very subtle rim around the perimeter of the circle containing the shapes. "I think it's another hatch. Yes, this is most _definitely_ an airlock," Carrington said giddily. "Geez, you're like a child on Christmas morning," Barclay commented.

While Barclay and Carrington were talking, Silva noticed something shiny on the floor near the wall. Walking over, he knelt down and picked it up. "A piercing?" Silva asked himself as he held the tiny piece of metal in his gloved hand. "Hey, what's that you've found?" Carrington asked him. "Piercing," Silva said as he turned around and held out his hand for both men to see the tiny object.

Barclay looked at the object in confusion before his conversation with Dr. Lloyd the previous day came back to him. Taking in a breath, Barclay decided to keep his thoughts to himself for the time being. "Hold onto it for now," he said. Silva nodded and placed it in one of his coat pockets.

Carrington walked over and shined his flashlight over the various shapes and patterns until he saw something that caught his attention. "Ooh. What's this?" he asked himself aloud. "What's what?" Barclay asked him. "This," Carrington said as he backed up and set his light on what looked like a panel of some kind.

"It looks... like it's been used recently," Silva noted before taking a picture. "Go touch it and see what happens," Silva said to Carrington. "Are you sure we shouldn't get a long stick or something?" Barclay asked. "Let's do it," Carrington said after taking a deep breath. He quickly walked forward and placed his hand on the flat and shiny surface of the panel.

Absolutely nothing happened.

Disappointed, Carrington put pressure on the panel before swiping downward, causing a faint blue light to outline the panel. Carrington pulled his hand away and watched as the panel came apart, showing a series of physical keys and buttons, along with a few levers. "Huh. I was kind of figuring on this thing to be mind-controlled or something," Silva said.

"I wonder if the vessel's crew are still in here somewhere?" Carrington asked out loud as he walked over and looked at the control panel. Over in a corner, he saw a small circular arrangement of what appeared to be tiny triangles adorning a dial next to a lever. Looking back over at the supposed-inner hatch of the floor, Carrington motioned for Barclay and Silva to stand aside.

"Please let me be right," Carrington whispered to himself before placing his gloved fingers around the dial. He attempted to turn it clock-wise, only for it to remain still. He then tried turning the dial counter-clockwise, and, again, it did not move. Looking a the lever next to it, which was pulled down, Carrington grabbed it and pushed it up. A green light emanated from around the lever and the slim space between the dial and its socket.

"Fail-safe," Carrington whispered as he looked back over to the hatch and saw a green glow emanating from small lights dotting the rim of the hatch. "Gentlemen, we are in business," Carrington said with a grin. He then turned the dial counter-clockwise, causing the hatch to slowly begin opening. "Well, I'll be damned," Barclay muttered in amazement.

"I'm gonna win a Pulitzer for this," Silva said with a smile as he readied his camera again. "At least _one_ of us will get to make history," Carrington said. "What do you mean?" Silva asked him curiously. "We weren't the first ones to find the ship, Silva. The Norwegians found it first," Carrington reminded him. "Oh... right," Silva said forlornly.

"Come on. Let's get moving. I wanna check this thing out and get out of here before nightfall," Barclay said as he stepped over to the rim of the inner hatch. He looked down and saw another ladder, this time leading into a larger room. "I guess I'll go first this time," Barclay said as he grabbed the ladder and slowly made his way down into the dark chamber, with only his flashlight and the lights from the rim of the hatch providing illumination, casting an eerie glow about the room.

* * *

 **United States Antarctic Research Station Outpost #31...**

Snow had started covering up the charred bodies of the two men on the tilted pool table. Van Wall frowned as he trudged forward and began trying to assess how he was going to move the bodies into the helicopter. "Allison, I hate you," Van Wall muttered under his breath.

"Which one do we move first?" Dutton asked him. Van Wall looked back over his shoulder at Dutton in mild annoyance. "Flip a coin."

* * *

 **Back Inside The Alien Ship...**

Barclay, Carrington, and Silva silently walked through the corridors of the alien ship. Silva would stop every few minutes to take a picture of the walls and the architecture of the vessel, before moving on to the next location. The trio eventually came upon an intersection in the hallway, with a large door of some kind blocking a short hall in front of them. The other paths all led to various curving corridors.

The interior of the ship itself seemed to be an amalgamation of organic and inorganic appearances and designs, with clear metallic material used for sections that weaved in and out of other areas that held a rubbery and at times plastic appearances. "Looks like cast iron," Barclay said as he inspected the door at the end of the hall. "This thing is massive. It could take us _days_ to fully explore it," Carrington said.

"What time is it right now?" Silva asked. Barclay looked at his watch. "Uh, it's... thirteen-forty UTC," Barclay said. Above them, parallel lines of orbs ran across the ceiling and parted at the intersection, with the orbs having different shades and colors depending on the direction of the path. The path in front of them had orbs with purple coloration, although none of the humans noticed this detail.

Stepping forward, Barclay ran a gloved hand over the door. Looking over at the panel on the wall, which had smooth edges and curves, Barclay placed his gloved right hand against it, waiting for a reaction. When nothing happened, Barclay raised an eyebrow. "Hm. Okay," he muttered before looking down and noticing the small metal fragments at the foot of the darkened path to his left.

Shining his flashlight over into the darkened corridor, Barclay saw more scraps of metal and other frozen materials scattered along the floor. Silva and Carrington both stepped forward and rounded the corner, looking over Barclay's shoulders as he slowly trekked forward, cautiously moving into the darkened corridor. Barclay quickly ordered Carrington and Silva to shine their lights along the corridor's interior and walls as they walked through the darkness.

Their lights revealed blown-open portions of the wall and ceiling, along with ruptures along the length of the corridor, with various metal bits laying on the floor. The trio remained silent as they continued their investigation, seeing burn marks and and tears along the floor and walls, with a long metal pipe lying on a pile of rubble near another, half-open door. Barclay squinted as he moved closer, shining his light through the open doorway and carefully maneuvering along the rubble.

Staying silent, Barclay saw that parts of the room beyond the door were covered in ice and frost, much like the rest of the interior of the vessel up to that point. "Guys, help me get this door open," Barclay said. Silva and Carrington both nodded their heads as they moved forward. "Wait!" Silva said hastily. "What?" Barclay asked him. "I want to take a picture first. Just, you know, to make sure we remember what this was like," Silva said before kneeling down and holding his camera in front of him.

After he had taken three pictures, Silva placed the lens-cap back on, before moving forward to help move the rubble. Pipes, jagged metal scraps, and alien circuitry were all moved to the side as the three men cleared the way to the door. "Okay, I'll go first," Barclay said before carefully stepping up to the door. He looked up and down and at the sides, making sure that it wouldn't close on him. Looking up at the top of the door, Barclay saw burn marks and an open section of the ceiling, were damaged circuitry could be seen.

Letting out a breath, Barclay carefully moved forward, aligning himself as he slipped through the half-open doorway. He kept his flashlight pointed into the room, before carefully stepping back and hugging the wall. He shone his flash light throughout the room, seeing what looked like large glass tubes and cases, many of which had ice, frost, and fog covering them. A few of these glass cases had cracks in them.

At the bottom of some of these cracked containers were puddles of ice, along with small icicles that only just touched the metal floor. Barclay slowly waved his flashlight around, seeing various grates in certain locations along the floor of the room. Barclay soon heard shuffling noises as Silva and Carrington made their way into the chamber with him.

Shining his light along the interior of the room, Carrington stared in curiosity at the various objects that lined the room. The chamber itself was very large and wide, with pods adorning the walls. The pods, to which the glass cases were attached, were clearly mechanical in design and nature. Stepping forward, Carrington made his way over to a pod, until Barclay grabbed his arm.

"Careful. There's ice on the floor," Barclay said. Carrington looked at Barclay curiously before shining his light down at the bottom of the first pod. The light reflected from the ice. "Yes. I-I see," Carrington said with a nervous gulp. "Thank you, Bar," Carrington said with a nod of his head. He then kept his flashlight aimed at the floor as he slowly walked forward, carefully measuring the pod's width and height.

Shining his light on the pod, Carrington saw that the cracks were near the center of the pod, while there still appeared to be frozen liquid inside of it. "Huh," he muttered before backing away and slowly creeping over to the next pod, which was undamaged. The glass case appeared to be, while not damaged, not connected to the pod itself either.

The pods themselves were all about three feet in width, and at least seven to eight feet in height. They had a glossy yellow or creamy sheen to them. Carefully making his way from pod to pod, Carrington soon came across one that seemed clear. There was no damage to it, but there was definitely ice on the floor around it.

Peering inside, Carrington saw a frost-covered object. Shining his light along the length of it, he soon saw that it had limbs. There were six limbs, along with a curled-up tail that forked near the end. The head was boxy, but clearly reptilian in appearance, with a frill at the back of the head, and four eyes, each one closed. Carrington could make out the eyelids themselves, even with the frost-bite having damaged the hide of the creature.

"My god," Carrington breathed, before smiling. "I've found it," he said to himself. "Found what?" Barclay asked as he turned around from the pod that he had been inspecting. Carrington turned his head and grinned at Barclay and Silva. "An alien!" Carrington replied happily. Barclay and Silva both walked away from the pods they had been inspecting, with Barclay slipping on ice after forgetting to check the floor.

"You okay?" Silva asked as he knelt down and help Barclay back up. "Y-Yeah. I'm okay," Barclay said as he stood up, with Silva's help. The two men slowly walked over to Carrington's position, peering into the pod to see the frozen creature inside. "Well, damn. I gotta take a picture of this," Silva said as he took the lens-cap off of his camera and held it up. "Carrington, Bar, keep your lights steady," Silva said as he adjusted his camera.

"Okay... just, point the lights away from it," Silva said. Barclay and Carrington complied before Silva took his first picture, followed by his second and third of the creature. "Boys, the Norwegians may have found the ship, but we found _this_ ," Silva said with a grin. "We're gonna be famous, and rich as hell," Silva said.

"Yeah, if no one thinks we faked it," Barclay said. "We have pictures of the ship from outside. We have pictures of the hatch, the inner airlock, the interiors. No one is going to think that this is fake. I'm going to win a Pulitzer Prize for these pictures, and everyone's gonna be famous," Silva said.

"Everyone except the dead Norwegians and the men of Outpost Thirty-One," Barclay said bitterly. "Bar... whatever those people found in the ice; it's long gone and dead. The men at Thirty-One made sure of that," Carrington said. He'd seen the pictures taken by Silva of the Norwegian camp and the ship the previous night. "Yeah. I hope so," Barclay said with a sigh.

Barclay turned around and made his way over tot he other side of the room again, when he shined his light on another series of pods, noticing that one of them had been completely shattered. Carefully walking over to the opened pod, Barclay saw a grate nearby, where he saw traces of ice. Turning around, Barclay stopped when he heard a noise.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

Turning back to face the grate, Barclay carefully walked over and wiped his gloved hand against the frozen liquid near the grate, watching as it sloshed down into the holes. "It's thawing," he whispered to himself. He remembered his conversation with Dr. Lloyd, and her account of what had happened in another room inside the ship. _That's right. The ship's been activated. But why is so much of it still cold and frozen after a week? Does this thing have separate temperature controls for each room or hallway?_

Barclay looked down at the grate again. _That must be it. This grate must be connected to one of the reactivated areas of the ship somehow. There must be a pipe that's carrying warm air or something around in here. If only there were a damn schematic for this thing. Not that I'd be able to understand it anyway,_ Barclay thought to himself.

"Actually, I think it's more of a gel," Barclay heard Carrington say to Silva. "Watch." Barclay turned around and saw Carrington kneeling on the floor before wiping the cold liquid to the side with his gloves. "See? It's a gelatinous substance," Carrington said to Silva. "Yeah. I see now," Silva said as he kept his flashlight aimed at the floor.

"What do you think this room was used for?" Silva asked Carrington as he looked at the various pods in the room. "I would most likely say... specimen collecting," Carrington said as he glanced back over at the reptilian creature in the nearest pod. "What were the specimens for?" Silva asked him. "Don't know. If I had to hazard a guess, then I'd probably say that the crew of this ship were collecting other life forms for... research, maybe," Carrington said.

"What kind of research?" Barclay asked him. "I don't know. Maybe a zoological study or something. Maybe this was where they stored their food. Maybe that thing over there was once another alien's _pet_ or something. I don't know. I don't know anything about the aliens who built this ship or operated it," Carrington said. "All I can say for certain is that this room holds pods that contain a gelatinous liquid, within which various life forms have been placed for... whatever purpose. That's all I can say for now," Carrington finished.

"Maybe these are incubators?" Silva asked. "Uh... possible, but I think it's more along the line of... specimen storage. I want to take some of this liquid back with us," Carrington said as he retrieved a small plastic container from his coat pocket. "Doc, maybe you should take something that hasn't been on the _floor_ for the past thousand years," Barclay suggested as Carrington held a small swab out towards the liquid.

"Oh. I think you have a point there," Carrington said before standing up and walking over to one of the pods that had been opened part-way. "Here," Silva said, producing a small flat-head screwdriver from his coat pocket. "Use this to chip away the frozen stuff. It might last longer than the stuff on the floor anyway," Silva said. Carrington stared at the screwdriver before looking back up at Silva. "Um, why do you... never mind," Carrington said before using the head of the screwdriver to chip away bits of the frozen substance while using the lid to scoop the bits into the dish.

Meanwhile, Barclay continued his inspection of the other pods in the chamber, noticing that many of them were empty, until he came across one pod that had a large pipe sticking through it. Walking over to the side, Barclay noticed that there was a figure in the pod, with a frost-bitten arm sticking out. Shining his flashlight on the figure, Barclay saw that it was a burnt corpse, with no trace of the liquid found in the other pods.

There was frost on it from the low temperatures, but otherwise, the body was burnt, with a lone four-digit hand connected to a bony-looking arm sticking out of the pod. Looking at what may have been the head, Barclay noticed that the right side was malformed, almost to the point that it seemed to be splitting apart. Walking over to the other side, ducking under the pipe, Barclay inspected the other side of the head, seeing that there were blackened teeth, coming out of what seemed to be a mouth growing of the side of the creature's head.

Barclay couldn't see any visible eyes, and with much of the body already being burnt, he couldn't tell what creature was supposed to look like anyway. For all he knew, the creature could have turned its head sideways when screaming as it was set on fire. Aiming his light further down, Barclay saw that, indeed, the entirety of the alien had been burned to a crisp.

"What'cha lookin' at?" Silva asked Barclay as he walked over, careful to avoid the pipe. "Another alien," Barclay said. "This one... doesn't look so hot," Silva commented as he looked up and down at the burnt corpse, seeing the pipe sticking through it. "What happened to it?" Silva asked. "It died," Barclay said.

"How did something this burnt stay intact for so long?" Silva asked. "This place has been pretty cold for thousands of years, Silva. Besides, it's an alien. Maybe these things don't break down as easily when set on fire," Barclay said. "You found another one?" Carrington asked as he walked over.

Barclay looked over at Carrington. "Yeah, we-watch for the-" Carrington hit his head on the pipe with a wince. "Pipe," Barclay said with a grimace as Carrington backed up and held his head in pain. "Ow!" Carrington muttered angrily.

"Careful, Stewart," Silva said. "Thank you, Victor," Carrington replied with a frown as he walked over to see the charred corpse of the alien better. "Is that its mouth?" Carrington asked as he saw the rows of teeth on the malformed being's head. "I'm not sure," Barclay said. "Looks like it," Silva said.

Barclay wanted to agree, but there was something... _off_ about it, something that made him uncertain. He looked down at his watch. "Silva, take some pictures. We need to get moving soon," Barclay said as he walked away from the burnt alien corpse. "You know, if we could remove this pipe, maybe we could take this one back with us," Carrington suggested. "I think you hit your head a little too hard," Barclay said, looking back over his shoulder. "We don't know how stuck that pipe is, or how long it is. We don't even know how heavy the damn thing is," Barclay added.

"Well, it didn't cause any permanent damage to the man," Silva said. "Leave it anyway. We'll come back tomorrow and try to get it, when we actually have proper equipment with us. Right now, there isn't much more we can do except look around and take pictures," Barclay said firmly. "Yes, _father_ ," Carrington said bitterly. "Carrington... don't push my buttons," Barclay said with a frown as he took one last lingering glance at the malformed alien head.

Even though he had no way of knowing for certain, Barclay still felt that the mouth on that head was out of place. There was something _wrong_ with it. For a few seconds, both Kate Lloyd's radio conversation and MacReady's recording returned to his mind as he stared at the open mouth and sharp teeth.

Eventually, the three men left the chamber, agreeing to return the next day with the second helicopter and more equipment. And as they resumed their trek through the ship, the air, which had become increasingly warmer in several areas over the past week, flowed through the chamber uninhibited. What once was frozen... slowly, but surely, began to thaw.

* * *

Author's Notes: And this is where the chapter ends. Yes, Barclay and the others found a dead Thing that had partially transformed. No, the lizard alien is not an imitation. It was among the few collected specimens that didn't get absorbed by the Thing during its rampage on the ship. And, yes, the Thing will be making an actual appearance in the next chapter, after which the rating of the story will change to M for blood, gore, swearing, and violenc _e_.

Be sure to let me know what you think in your reviews.


	5. It Begins

**THE THING II: Hawke Station**

Disclaimer: John Carpenter's THE THING is property of Universal.

Also, this will be the last T-rated chapter in the story, and it will be switched to an M-rating when Chapter 06 is posted.

* * *

 **Chapter 05: It Begins**

* * *

Date: Winter of 1982 - 1983

 **United States Antarctic Research Outpost "Hawke Station"**

Barclay sat in his bed as he finished his newest audio log. He'd decided to make his own log of the investigation into the destruction of Outpost 31 and Thule Station, as well as writing notes down in a notebook. "Having inspected the interior of the vessel, I can conclude that the Norwegian research team did find some kind of life form. As for what truly happened to it, I am uncertain at this time. The sole survivor of the Norwegian camp, American paleontologist Kate Lloyd, says that the life form was a being that... in her own words, assimilated other life forms and imitated their biological functions and appearance," Barclay said.

"So far, I've found no direct proof to support such a claim at this time. Even with the discovery of frozen organisms inside the alien ship, there is no certainty that any of them would still be alive. Silva estimates that the ship has been buried in the ice for at least a hundred-thousand years, give or take, and even if a life form could survive a hundred years in the cold, one hundred-thousand is just... implausible to me," Barclay continued.

"Again, I do believe that the Norwegian team found some kind of animal or life form in the ice, but I do not yet accept Doctor Lloyd's claims that it was still alive. While there have been discoveries of plant seeds germinating after thousands of years in hibernation, I must stress that those were still life forms that originated on Earth. I don't really see how something that comes from another planet would be able to survive in our own atmospheric conditions like that. Even if the body is preserved, how would it possibly survive in our atmosphere, unless it were some kind of bacteria or something simple of that nature?" Barclay asked as he continued.

"I really do want to give Doctor Lloyd the benefit of the doubt, but with her admission that she burned alive Samuel Carter in a snowcat, with only his missing an ear piercing as her supposed proof of his not being human, I'm afraid I can't really take much of what she's said at face value until further evidence has been collected. Especially since, after our return from the ship, Atkins, Thorne, and Connant all confirmed that Mr. Carter was human. They performed an autopsy on the body, and found that he had nothing out of place. All of his organs were normal, and there were no extra limbs or monstrous teeth or tentacles anywhere to be found," Barclay said.

"The fact remains that, at this time, until any solid evidence to the contrary can be provided, I must assume that Doctor Lloyd, acting out of fear and paranoia, murdered a fellow human being," Barclay said solemnly. "Log Three completed," Barclay said before stopping the recording. He sighed as he leaned back on the bed.

Looking up at the ceiling, Barclay contemplated everything that had been discovered so far through the investigation. _Norwegians find ship, bring back frozen alien. But... MacReady also said that there was a shape-shifter. Even if I were to accept that testimony, the fact remains that there is no evidence that the body in the snowcat wasn't human. But... the piercing. Shit, I forgot all about that. I'll have to ask Silva for it later,_ Barclay thought to himself.

 _Even if those things were real... they're dead now anyway,_ he thought to himself as he yawned. "No point crying over spilt milk," he said to himself before getting up. He looked over at his night stand and the empty plate sitting on it. "One more bite before bed time," Barclay said quietly to himself before grabbing the plate and walking out of the room.

 **The Infirmary**

"Well, it would appear that this man was shot in the head," Atkins said as he examined the larger of the two newest burnt corpses. "Any identification on him?" Connant asked as he walked back into the room. He had taken the other corpses to the lab for storage with Ralsen and Dutton's help two hours earlier. "If there is, it's probably burnt," Atkins replied before he used an instrument to probe the interior of the man's head.

"Strange, though. I'm not seeing any exit wound," Atkins said as he continued probing. "Wait... ah-ha. He's got a metal plate in the back of his head," Atkins said as he removed his probing instrument. "I might be able to tell what did him in if I can get to the plate," Atkins said. "You know, that corpse with the beard had a revolver on him," Connant said.

"Well, that's probably the weapon that did it, but we don't have any way of being absolutely certain yet. We don't even know the _circumstances_ that led to this man getting shot," Atkins said as he looked over at Connant. "And what about Stumpy over there?" Connant asked him.

"Well... that's the strange part. He most likely died from shock and blood loss after losing his arms, but the problem is figuring out _how_ he lost them in the first place," Atkins said. "Did you listen to that audio tape Bar left out for everyone?" Connant asked him. "Oh, yeah. I listened to it. Unfortunately, I think whatever happened to these men took place well after the tape had been finished and hidden away. The tape mentioned one man being locked in a tool shed and three others tied up, but there was no mention of anyone being shot or losing their limbs," Atkins said.

"Eleven of the twelve men were still alive at that point. Atkins, tell me; do you really believe that alien story?" Connant asked him. "Considering the evidence so far... I have to say that I find it the most likely possibility. Remember, Barclay spoke with that lady yesterday, and she'd never met any of the men at Thirty-One, yet they have the same story. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that there has to be some amount of truth to what they were saying," Atkins said.

Connant leaned against the wall and sighed. "So, do you think Silva will show us pictures of what they found after he's done, or will he make us wait until morning?" Connant asked him curiously. "I guess it depends on how many pictures he took," Atkins said as he resumed probing the burnt corpse of the man who, unbeknownst to him, was the dog handler of Outpost Thirty-One.

* * *

 **Day 04**

* * *

"So, there's nothing?" Barclay asked Atkins as he leaned against the wall of the infirmary, watching the two corpses out of the corner of his eye. "Nope. No signs of anything out of the ordinary, for a burnt corpse that is," Atkins said. "And... any idea how that man lost his arms yet?" Barclay asked him. "None. Being burnt meant that the wounds are cauterized. I'm afraid that there isn't much I can do at this point. No identification on either of them, either. We'd have to go back to Thirty-One and see if we can find some kind of roster and maybe some picture to tell us who was who," Atkins replied.

"Well, I was hoping to fly back out to the ship today," Barclay said. "I think you can go a day without flying," Atkins said. "Van Wall is about ready to have an aneurysm," he added with a snicker. "I'll keep that in mind. This time, I'm having both helicopters head out to the ship. There's something we wanna bring back with us this time," Barclay said. "Oh? And what would that be?" Atkins asked him.

"Has Silva finished developing his pictures yet?" Barclay asked him. "Yeah. He's busy making copies in the dark room again," Atkins replied. "So he's done, but he still isn't satisfied?" Barclay asked him. "He wants to have... a contingency plan, in case something happens to the first set of pictures," Atkins explained. "Huh. Okay then," Barclay said.

"So, do you want me to come along with you on this trip?" Atkins asked him. "I think I'll take Thorne with me," Barclay said. "Mm-Hm. Now, you still didn't answer my question earlier. What exactly are you guys hoping to bring back with you from the ship?" Atkins asked him.

"Yes, please tell us," Hendry said as he walked into the room. "Well, I was hoping to wait for Silva to have those pictures ready, but... we found an alien. Two, actually. One is intact, but stuck in some kind of frozen capsule. The other one... is intact, but burned like some of these corpses. It has a metal pipe sticking through it, though, so we'll need Dutton and Ralsen to bring along some equipment to cut it out," Barclay explained.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Atkins asked him. "I'm pretty sure that it's dead. It's been exposed to our planet's atmosphere for over a week at least. If it were alive, I think it would've gotten out of there by now," Barclay responded. "I'm going with you," Hendry said. "So... seven of you are going along? Will there be any room in the helicopters for these things?" Atkins asked them.

"I guess I'll leave Ralsen behind. Besides, I need him and Connant to clear out one of the other storage rooms," Barclay said. "What for?" Hendry asked him. "For the bodies. We need to store them some place that's cold so they don't decompose too badly and stink up the joint before Spring," Barclay said. "Why Connant?" Hendry asked him. "I figure he's responsible enough to know how to store cadavers properly," Barclay replied.

"And you don't trust _me_ to do it for some reason?" Atkins asked him. "Actually, I want you to help them. Keep the frost-bitten bodies away from the burned ones," Barclay said. "Yippee," Atkins muttered sarcastically. "We need to keep those bodies on ice, or in decent condition, until Spring arrives and we can have someone come and get them. I want to keep everything related to the investigation together for the authorities when they arrive," Barclay said.

"We _are_ the authorities out here," Hendry said, pointing at Barclay and himself. "Only for Hawke Station. I meant other authorities, like Interpol or the World Health Organization," Barclay said. "Besides, we may need to give information to them anyway, especially once we bring back those... aliens," Barclay said.

"Yeah, and where exactly are you going to put them after you bring them back?" Atkins asked him with a raised eyebrow. "He's got a point," Hendry said after a few seconds of consideration. "I guess I hadn't planned that far ahead," Barclay admitted. "Do you even know if removing them from that ship is a good idea? You said one of them was frozen in a capsule, right? What that thing is carrying some kind of disease with it? If it thaws out here, we may have no way of protecting ourselves from something like that," Atkins said.

"Then we'll just bring back the burned one. That one shouldn't be too dangerous," Barclay replied thoughtfully. Atkins sucked in a deep breath before letting in back out. "Whatever you say, Bar. Whatever you say," Atkins said.

 **The Rec Room, Later...**

"This is real?" Sanchez asked as he picked up and examined a picture of the lizard alien. "The genuine article," Silva replied with a smile. "How long did you say that ship had been there?" Crenna asked Silva. "Well, judging from the back-scatter effect seen around the crater, I'd say that it's at least a hundred-thousand years old," Silva said. "That thing's been frozen in there for a hundred-thousand _years!?_ " Sanchez asked in disbelief.

"Yup," Silva replied. "Are you going back out today?" Stiles asked him as he examined a few pictures of the ship's interior corridors. "Yeah. We're gonna try to explore the rest of the ship and maybe bring a few things back, like scraps of metal or pieces of equipment," Silva said.

"Hey, what's this burned thing in this photo?" Lambert asked. "That's one of the other aliens we found," Silva replied. "Burnt, frozen, and impaled with a pipe. Poor bastard," Lambert commented. "You aren't gonna try bringing one of those aliens back here, are you?" Pomroy asked as he examined two pictures of the lizard-alien and the burnt creature.

"Well... maybe," Silva said. "Just let me know if it smells. I don't want the dogs acting up because of this," Pomroy said. "Hey, just how big is that lizard thing anyway?" Kinner asked as he looked at a photo. "Aw, shit. We forgot to take pictures of ourselves next to them for size comparison," Silva cursed.

"Well, I guess you'll have to do that today, won't you?" Crenna asked him. "Just make sure that you get examined by Atkins after coming back. I don't you guys bringing back something that could affect the plants in the green house," Walters said as he examined the pictures. "Uh, Dillon? You probably should have said something about that last night," Silva said.

It took Walters a minute to realize what Silva was saying. "You've been in the green house?" Walters asked him seriously. "No. I just figured you should have said something sooner, considering that if we caught anything, we'd all have been exposed by now, including you," Silva explained. Walters sat down on a chair and held his head in his hands, groaning in frustration.

"All of my work," Walters groaned. "Uh, maybe you should go see Atkins," Crenna suggested to the botanist. Walters nodded his head and stood up, returning the photos to the coffee table before leaving the rec room. "Crybaby," Ralsen muttered as he watched Walters walking away.

A minute later, Barclay and Hendry entered the rec room. "Harvey, get your stuff ready. We're leaving in an hour," Barclay said. "Say what? I thought you were gonna get Van Wall to fly you out there," Harvey said. "We're taking both helicopters this time," Barclay said.

"Hey, now wait a minute! Bar, we can't keep flying these long distances back and forth each day," Harvey protested. "We're gonna use up our fuel before too long if we keep this up. I mean, what if we have an emergency and we need to fly out somewhere? With all of the flying we've been doing this week, I doubt we'll have any left for either chopper before the week's over," he ranted.

"We've got plenty of spare fuel," Barclay said. "Besides, the second helicopter is larger than the primary one, so it can hold what we plan to bring back without much trouble," he added. "Come on, Bar! Haven't we flown out in the cold enough times this week!?" Harvey asked him angrily. "Van Wall has flown out more times than you have, Harvey. You've only flown once this week," Barclay retorted.

" _Fine_ ," Harvey huffed in defeat. "Get ready to move in an hour, and make sure to pack spare fuel for the helicopter. Silva, have you seen Carrington this morning?" Barclay asked. "He's already out with Van Wall getting the other helicopter ready," Silva said. "That'll make things easier," Barclay commented. "Where's Dutton?" Barclay asked. "He's in the bathroom," Ralsen said.

"Alright. Ralsen, I need you to help Connant and Atkins clear out some storage space for those bodies. I want them kept someplace cold," Barclay said. Ralsen rolled his eyes in response before letting out a sigh. "Sure. I'll get right on that," Ralsen said reluctantly before walking out of the room. "I'll see the rest of you later," Barclay said before leaving the room.

* * *

 **At The Ship, Around Noon...**

"Hey, do you see that?" Barclay asked as Van Wall began descending the helicopter. "Looks like we've got company," Van Wall said. In the back of the helicopter, Hendry frowned. "What do you boys mean by that? What kind of company?" Hendry asked through the small space between the divider of the cockpit and the passenger area.

"Red company," Van Wall replied. Hendry's eyes widened. " _Soviets?_ The Soviets are here?" Hendry asked in shock. "Looks like it," Barclay said. A worried expression came over Hendry's face as he sank back into his seat. "Well, that's just _great_ ," Hendry muttered under his breath.

The two American helicopters soon finished their descent on the side of the crater opposite of the Soviets. Barclay waited for the rotors to stop spinning before grabbing a pair of binoculars from the floor and stepping out of the cockpit. He made his way over to the rim of the crater and looked through the binoculars at the opposite side of the crater.

There was one Soviet helicopter, a large Mil Mi-17, along with a single snowcat. "I wish we had one of those," Barclay muttered under his breath. Barclay heard boots crunching in the snow next to him before he pulled his eyes away and looked to see Hendry standing next to him.

"What do you see?" Hendry asked him. Barclay looked through the binoculars again. "I see about six guys. They've got something on a gurney, I think. They're taking it into the helicopter. Two guys are climbing back down to the ship," Barclay said as he watched the Soviets through his binoculars. "Any guns?" Hendry asked him.

"Uh... not that I can see. We've told you, Hendry, they're _scientists_ , not soldiers," Barclay said in annoyance. "Do they see us?" Hendry asked him. "They'd have to be blind if they don't. But... wait, one guy is looking at us through his binoculars. He's waving," Barclay said before returning the wave.

"That's _real cute_ ," Hendry muttered. "Hendry, I want you to go on with the others and get inside the ship. I'm gonna have myself a little chat with the Soviets. Find out what they've taken so far," Barclay said. "You sure that's wise?" Hendry asked him. "I trust you to keep your head cool," Barclay said. "I meant you meeting them by yourself," Hendry clarified.

"I'll be fine. I can take care of myself. I need you to keep Silva and the others from hurting themselves. Make sure no one licks anything," Barclay said with a smirk. "Come on, Bar. These guys aren't schoolboys. They're scientists," Hendry replied with a smirk of his own before walking away.

 **Thirty Minutes Later...**

Sitting inside the Soviet helicopter, Barclay looked in awe at the creature that the Soviet scientists had recovered from the ship. It was similar to the burnt alien that was in the pod chamber, but it was fully intact. Its head had three small eyes inside of a thin chasm in the center of the face, with a greenish blue or gray coloration about it. The limbs with long and gangly, and the numerous digits on its almost insect-like forelimbs were almost akin to tree branches.

The creature itself didn't seem to be mummified, although there was another body inside the helicopter. One of the scientists, a small man named Dimitri, opened the tarp to show Barclay the mummified corpse. "Same... species," Dimitri said in awkward English.

"I hope... you do not mind us taking what we have found," came a voice from the other side of the helicopter. Barclay turned around to see a muscular man with a trimmed beard. "And you are...?" Barclay asked him. "Boris. I am the helicopter pilot. I took my comrade Vassili and Doctor Lloyd to McMurdo a couple of days ago. You spoke with them over the radio," Boris said fluently.

"Good English," Barclay complimented him. "I must be able to communicate in many languages here on this continent. I am only good with three, though," Boris said. "Right. So, where did you guys find these... things?" Barclay asked. "In a large room, in center of the ship. The fresh one... was in a pod of some kind. We tried to take pod as well, but... it was more fragile than expected," Boris explained.

"What about the mummy?" Barclay asked him. "It was in a hallway. We found this near it," Boris said as he walked over and picked up what looked like a metal object. It resembled a gun in shape, with a handle, but with two trigger guards and small tubes sticking out of various ports and running around the back and length of it. The barrel of the weapon had a sheath over part of it, with small vents running along the interior for a very short distance.

"Looks like some kind of gun," Barclay observed. "Yes. Most likely, but We cannot find a magazine or chamber or rack for any kind of ammunition. No slot for anything to fit into either," Boris said. "Unusual. Most unusual," Dimitri said. Barclay looked back over at the alien corpses for a second, staring at the hands of the creatures in curiosity.

 **Inside The Ship...**

Dutton stared at the charred corpse in front of him. "Jesus Christ," he muttered as he inspected the creature. "Just stand next to it for me," Silva said as he got his camera ready, while Thorne stepped away from the corpse before walking away to inspect the other pods in the room. "Hey, why am I the one standing next to it?" Dutton asked him. "I need a size comparison," Silva explained. "Do I really have to do this?" Dutton asked in an annoyed tone.

"Just do it," Thorne said. "It will be really helpful," Carrington said. Dutton sighed before walking over next to the burnt corpse of the alien and standing ramrod straight. "Okay, that's good," Silva said as he steadied himself. He took five pictures before giving Dutton the OK to move. "You were great. I think you have potential as a model," Thorne joked.

"So, do we start cutting now?" Dutton asked as he grabbed his tool bag and retrieved a hack-saw. "Well, let's find out how long the pipe is first," Carrington said as he walked around and inspected the corpse. "Looks to be a good foot sticking out of the it. This pillar behind the pod, though; it's a problem," Carrington said. Looking at the pillar, he aimed his flashlight up and down before noticing a small panel and a broken screen of some kind.

"Fascinating," Carrington muttered to himself. Dutton walked over to his side and looked at the pillar. "Let's see if this thing is melted into the pod," Dutton said as he shone his flashlight into the pod. He reached forward and pressed a gloved hand against the back of the creature, slowly pushing it aside as he ran his hand down the back of the creature until he finally felt the hardness of the metal pipe.

"Yeah, this is where I should start," Dutton said as he steadied his saw between the corpse and the back of the pod. "This may take a while," Dutton said as he put on a pair of goggles. "Carrington, keep that light shining on this thing while I cut it," Dutton said. "Right," Carrington said with a nod as he stepped forward and looked over Dutton's shoulder. "And, uh, don't stand too close. I need to be able to move my arm," Dutton said as he turned his head to glance at Carrington.

"Oh! Sorry about that," Carrington apologized as he backed up a bit. "Thank you," Dutton said before getting to work. "I just hope this damn blade still cuts in this kind of cold," Dutton muttered under his breath as he started moving the saw back and forth.

 **Meanwhile, On The Surface Of The Ship...**

Boris pointed to a large vent in the ship's hull. "This... is where Aleksey fell down. It leads to... a big cavern inside," Boris explained to Barclay. The two men knelt down next to the opening of the vent. Dr. Lloyd's tale once again made its way to his head as he remembered her explanation for how she and Carter had gotten separated from each other while searching for the allegedly infected Sander.

"I have a question for you," Barclay said. "Yes?" Boris asked him. "How much of the ship have you guys explored so far?" Barclay asked. "I am... not entirely sure. Why do you ask?" Boris replied. "I noticed that some parts of the ship had different temperatures yesterday while exploring the inside," Barclay said. "So... you have already made claim to it?" Boris asked him.

"Not quite. It's connected to the incident at the Norwegian camp, so for the time being... we still need to keep this to ourselves. At least... for now. Until we can get everything sorted properly," Barclay explained. Boris nodded his head. "I understand. I will explain this to Pavlo, the station leader," Boris said. "Thank you," Barclay said with a nod.

"But, back to my question. Have you seen any areas with different temperatures than others inside the ship?" Barclay asked Boris. "Perhaps it is best that we show you instead," Boris said. He whistled over at another man standing nearby. "[ _Petro! Is Pavlo still in the chamber!?_ ]" Boris asked the man in his native Russian tongue.

"[ _Yes! He's still down there! Are we taking the American down to meet him?_ ]" Petro asked him as he walked over. "[ _Yes. We are going to show him what we have found. His people are already inside the ship, collecting things that they have already found on their own. He wants to know about the parts of the ship that are different from the rest,_ ]" Boris explained.

Petro nodded his head in understanding. He turned around and motioned for Boris and Barclay to follow him over to another entrance that had been found. "[ _Stay close. There is still much ice around here. You don't want to break your back,_ ]" Petro said. "What did he say?" Barclay asked Boris. "He said to watch out for ice. It is very slippery," Boris relayed.

Barclay nodded his head and followed the two men closely as they made their way into the entrance hatch and followed a path that Barclay and the others had not taken the previous day. "[ _How much have the Americans already claimed for themselves?_ ]" Petro asked Boris as Barclay followed them through the corridors and ramps of the vessel. "[ _They were here yesterday, so they have found much more than us. However... they are using the ship to investigate the destruction of the Norwegian research station. The American scientist we found told them about the crater and the ship on the radio,_ ]" Boris explained.

"[ _Pavlo will not be happy to hear that. He wants to claim the ship for the pride of the Union. He will be very pissed at learning that the Americans have already claimed it for themselves. There's no doubt that they'll claim it after their investigation is over,_ ]" Petro said. "[ _I don't care about Pavlo's happiness. There are three countries involved in this now, and many people are dead or missing. We must tread these waters carefully. Although, I don't believe that the Americans will object to us taking the remains that we have already found on our own, since they did not enter this part of the ship yesterday,_ ]" Boris replied.

Eventually, the trio made their way into a large round chamber, where a short man with an almost-stereotypical Soviet winter clothing set was busy taking pictures of the interior of the room. "Pavlo!" Petro called out. The short man turned around and looked at the trio quizzically. "[ _Borya? Petya?_ ]" Pavlo asked them in Russian.

"[ _Who is this man?_ ]" Pavlo asked them. "[ _This is the leader of the American team that is investigating the incident at the Norwegian camp. Because the ship is connected to the events at Thule Station, he wishes to have us keep quiet about it until his investigation is complete,_ ]" Boris explained. Pavlo frowned and furrowed his brows as he looked at Barclay.

"[ _We are not giving back what we have found through our own efforts. Tell the Americans that we will cooperate so long as we are given credit for our own discoveries as well,_ ]" Pavlo said after a minute of silence. Boris nodded his head and turned to face Barclay. "He says that we will cooperate so long as we are given credit for our efforts. And we will not be handing over the things we have found," Boris explained.

"That's fine with me. But... the Norwegians technically found this ship first. I don't care about claiming it. I just want things kept quiet until I've completed my investigation. If you want to talk about fame and credit, you guys will have to speak to the Norwegians," Barclay said. Boris nodded his head in understanding before turning to face Pavlo again.

"[ _Captain Barclay agrees with your terms. He says, however, that the Norwegians found the ship before us or the Americans. Therefore, we must negotiate with the Norwegians for our claims. Captain Barclay only wishes to learn the truth about what happened at the Norwegian research station that the American woman fled from,_ ]" Boris explained. Pavlo nodded his head as he processed this information. He looked over at Barclay before extending his gloved right hand.

Barclay looked at him before extending his open and shaking them. "I appreciate your cooperation," Barclay said hesitantly. He wasn't sure if Pavlo understood him. "[ _Captain Barclay is glad that we have reached an agreement,_ ]" Boris said to Pavlo. Pavlo nodded his head. "[ _Tell him... I hope he finds closure when completing his investigation,_ ]" Pavlo said.

Boris turned to Barclay. "He says that he hopes that you find closure when you complete your investigation," Boris translated. "Tell him I said thanks," Barclay said. Boris nodded and relayed the gratitude to Pavlo. "So, about the different room temperatures?" Barclay asked him. "Oh, yes. I forgot about that," Boris said before showing Barclay around the room.

* * *

 **Hawke Station, Later That Evening...**

Everyone gathered in the lab to watch as the large burnt corpse of the alien was laid onto one of the tables, with a tarp underneath it. "Geez, you weren't kidding," Stiles said in awe as he looked at the corpse. Ralsen and Lambert both looked at the body with interest, while Thorne merely stood back, having already seen the creature while inside the ship.

"Is this all that you guys could find?" Connant asked. "There were two more corpses of similar creatures, but the Soviets had already gotten a hold of them by the time we'd arrived," Barclay explained as he leaned against the wall. He was wearing just his pants and a gray long-sleeved shirt now, with an A-shirt underneath for a small layer of added warmth.

"Is it supposed to have a pipe sticking out of it?" Crenna asked. "Just let it thaw out a bit and we can remove it later," Dutton said. "My arms are already hurting too much from what I did today," he said under his breath as he glared at the burnt alien corpse.

"So... is that its mouth?" Pomroy asked as he pointed to the malformed jaws on the side of the thing's head. "I'm not sure," Barclay said tiredly. Having finally gotten a look at two other members of the alien species, and having convinced the Soviets to allow Silva the chance to take several pictures of them, Barclay was now having to give more consideration to both Kate Lloyd and R.J. MacReady's stories about the shape-shifter.

"You're not sure?" Atkins asked him skeptically. "Neither of the other ones looked like this," Barclay said. "Were they burned to a crisp as well?" Caldwell asked as he looked at the corpse. "No. One was mummified, and the other... was in good condition. The Soviets found it in some kind of pod. It must have been protected from the elements well enough," Barclay said. "Did Silva take any pictures?" Ralsen asked.

"Yeah. I convinced the Soviets to let Silva go nuts," Barclay replied tiredly. He was still tired from all of the yelling he had done with Hendry on the flight back. "Damn," Sanchez said as he looked at the alien. "This guy had a whole metal pipe shoved through him?" Sanchez asked.

"Well... we _think_ it's metal," Carrington said. "I'd really like to take some samples of the pipe and examine them now that we have the tools available," he added eagerly. "Go right ahead, Stewart," Barclay said with a sigh. "Just don't stay up too late. I want this thing examined by tomorrow afternoon. Stick it in a cooler and let it thaw out a bit if it makes things easier, but don't let it stink up the place," he added.

"Hey... where's Hendry?" Caldwell asked as he looked around. "The old fart's holed up in his room right now. He's still pissed at me for deciding to play nice with the reds today," Barclay explained. "What a whiner," Ralsen commented. "Speaking of whiners, did you and Lambert get those other bodies moved around like I'd asked earlier?" Barclay asked Ralsen.

"Yeah, we got 'em moved. We got the storage rooms cleared and everything," Ralsen replied with a hint of annoyance. "Good job. How long did it take you?" Barclay asked him. "A couple hours. We had a lot of stuff to move around," Ralsen replied. "I'll say. I could hear them _whining_ most of the time," Caldwell snickered.

Ralsen looked over at Caldwell before flipping him the bird. "Eat it, Bart," Ralsen said with a smirk. Barclay sighed and shook his head. "Well, I'm gonna-wait... where's Walters?" he asked as he scanned the room. "In the greenhouse, as usual. He's been in there almost all day," Stiles said. "Is he still fretting over his plants?" Barclay asked.

"Probably. Those plants are like his _children_ ," Stiles said. "I wouldn't be surprised if it turns out that he actually _is one_ ," Dutton commented. "Well, I'm gonna go check on the dogs and make sure they're settled for the night," Pomroy said before walking out of the room. "If you guys don't need me anymore, I'm gonna go get something to eat and then hit the hay. I'll see all of you in the morning," Barclay said as he followed Pomroy out of the lab.

Soon, the lab was emptied, with the exception of Carrington, Connant, Atkins, and Thorne, all of whom were preparing the lab for the next day's work. Carrington, though, had already begun trying to get samples of the pipe for him to study at his own leisure. "Can't you wait until this thing is thawed out a little more?" Connant asked him. "I could, but I really don't want to," Carrington replied with a grin.

Atkins took off his gloves and walked over to the sink to wash his hands. "Well, I'm gonna head on over to the kitchen for some leftovers. See you fellas tomorrow," Atkins said after he dried his hands with a towel. Thorne looked at the alien corpse before getting off of his stool and walking after Atkins.

Twenty minutes later, after finishing some notes, Connant rubbed his eyes. "Well, I'll see you later, Carrington." Carrington nodded his head as he used tweezers and a scalpel to collect some samples of the burnt alien flesh to put into a petri dish. "Mm-hm. See you later," Carrington said in response as Connant washed his hands before leaving the lab. "Don't forget to turn the lights off when you're through. And, uh, make sure to cover that thing up when you're done," Connant said after pausing at the doorway to the hallway.

"I'll remember," Carrington said with a nod, keeping his eyes focused on his task. Connant stared at Carrington for a few seconds before turning around and leaving. Now Carrington was alone with his specimen, and no one else was there to bother him. "Peace at last," he said to himself as he began a close inspection of the body's charred remains. "I only wish we had the more intact ones that the Soviets found," Carrington muttered in frustration.

 **Two Hours Later...**

A lone figure moved silently through the dark and mostly empty halls of Hawke Station. As they passed open doors and lit hallways, they remained quiet and alert. Stopping by corners when hearing multiple voices and foot steps, they waited patiently, quietly, and determinedly before resuming their search. Eventually, they came across an open door with a lone figure inside the room, their back turned as they went about their business.

Slipping into the room unseen, the figure quietly closed the door behind them. They quickly and quietly turned off the lights and silenced the room's inhabitant before any noise could be made. No one would hear anything, and no one would know what was transpiring.

* * *

 **Day 05**

* * *

It was shortly after one in the morning when the dogs first noticed that something was amiss. The alpha of the pack, a large Malamute named Cole, opened his eyes after sniffing something in the air. His ears twitched as he lifted his head. There was no wind outside blowing against the building, nor were there any doors open to allow wind to blow across the walls and supplies lining the halls. The smell and shuffling sound were coming from somewhere inside the building.

Soon, the other dogs began to stir. Hoskins, a large Siberian Husky, looked at Cole and sniffed the air. Jake and Vince, two other Malamutes, both perked their heads up as they sniffed the air, with Sykes standing up and pacing around the kennel. Soon, all eight dogs were sniffing the air and sending confused and fearful glances around their enclosure as they heard the sound of a door opening.

Foot steps echoed through the walkway as the quiet figure in the dark slowly approached the kennel. One dog, a Siberian Husky named Morris, stepped hesitently towards the front of the cage as the figure entered the dogs' field of view. Morris sniffed the air, not recognizing the scent of whoever was now in front of him. He quickly went forward to sniff, only to back up as an odd sound and newer scent hit the air. Morris and the other dogs soon became alarmed as the figure's scent underwent a radical change before they moved an arm towards the lock on the door.

The dogs began to snarl and bark at the intruder. Sykes and Vince both began to howl in alarm, hoping to alert their handler as the figure in front of them began to open the door to the cage. The dogs failed to hear the new set of footsteps in the distance as their barks and snarls filled the air.

"Hey! What's going on in here!?" asked Reynolds as he entered the kennel hall. He had a tray of scraps in his hands for the dogs, as he would sometimes enter the kennel when he couldn't sleep and would give food to the dogs. Currently, however, the dogs' barking had caught his attention.

Turning on the lights, Reynolds quickly marched through the hall and turned the corner before pausing. "Hey, who the... hell?" Reynolds asked as he heard the strange noises coming from the figure standing in front of him. They were wearing full snow gear, with a parka that was closed, preventing Reynolds from seeing their face.

Hearing another sound, this one wet, Reynolds glanced down at the floor and saw the dark-colored liquid dripping from under the figure's clothes. His mouth opened in disgust and alarm before he looked back up and saw the figure's jacket shaking, with the zipper slowly being pulled down from inside. "The fuck?" Reynolds asked as he took one step back.

The dogs continued barking and howling as the figure's winter jacket was quickly shredded, revealing the horrid figure underneath as their flesh rippled and bled with tendrils and tentacles pushing out. "My... _god_ ," Reynolds whispered in shock, unable to move as he tried to process the sight in front of him. The figure's face was covered in blood as their head swelled in areas and deflated in others, with sickening crunching and cracking noises being covered by the continued barks and howls of the dogs.

 **The Dorms...**

Clad in just his boxers and an A-shirt, Barclay yawned as he stepped out of the bathroom and back into the hallway of the dormitory. "Back to bed," he said to himself tiredly, before the faint sound of the dogs' barking and howling got his attention. He turned his head and looked down the hallway, seeing that the main hallway light was turned on. After the Summer crew had left, over half of the dorm rooms in the stationed had become empty, allowing the those wintering over to move into another room at their leisure. Only half of the crew, himself included, had done so.

He looked over at the door to the room that Pomroy shared with Walters. Walking over to the door, he knocked on it. Pomroy and Walters had both declined to leave their shared room when the Summer crew had left. For Pomroy, this was because the room was the closest to the end of the hall, and he wanted to be able to get to the dogs before anyone else if necessary. Walters was simply too lazy to move his stuff into another room for the Winter, describing it to Barclay once as "a waste of time," since he would have to move his stuff back into his old room anyway when the Summer crew returned.

"Hey... W-Walters," Barclay said tiredly before reaching down and turning the handle, opening the door as he stepped into the room and flicked on the lights. "Hey, where's Pom..." Barclay trailed off as he saw that Pomroy was sitting up in his bed and covering his eyes. "Hey, man. What the hell?" Walters asked from his bed.

"Pomroy, your dogs are having a fit. Go do something about it," Barclay said with a yawn as he rubbed his temples. "Alright, alright. Don't yell," Pomroy said as he slowly got up and started getting dressed. He was currently only in his underwear.

"Just let me-" _**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUGGGHHHH!**_

Everyone's eyes widened in shock as they turned their heads to face the doorway as the scream echoed through the halls. "What the hell?" Walters asked. "Someone's in the kennel!" Pomroy said worriedly as he grabbed his pants and shirt. "Pomroy, grab your vet kit; Walters, just go with him. You two get your asses over to the kennel. I'll get everyone else ready," Barclay said before he dashed out of the room.

In the hallway, two other doors had opened, with Crenna and Stiles both stepping out into the hallway in their underwear. "Bar? Bar, what's going on?" Crenna asked. "I thought I heard a scream," he added. "Someone's in the kennel with the dogs," Barclay said before rushing over to his room and grabbing his clothes, quickly getting himself dressed in his usual slate gray cargo pants and olive-colored shirt.

Grabbing his gun holster, Barclay quickly attached it to his waist before grabbing his disassembled Colt M1911, reassembling it, and then holstering it. He then returned to the hallway, where he could see a few other doors opening. "Hey, what's going on?" Caldwell asked in annoyance. Ralsen and Harvey both entered the hallway groggily, looking around in confusion. "Dude, what the hell's with all the yelling?" Ralsen asked tiredly.

"Hey, listen," Sanchez said. Everyone else was still conversing. "Wait, what?" Silva asked Crenna. Hendry soon exited his room and glared at everyone, noticing Barclay shaking his head in anger. "Bar, what the _hell is going on!?_ " Hendry angrily asked him. "Someone's in the Kennel, and I just heard a loud scream," Barclay replied as he pushed through the group to meet up with Pomroy and Walters, who was just getting his jacket on. Pomroy had already grabbed one of his spare veterinarian kits.

Barclay looked over and saw Atkins and Thorne exit their shared room. "Atkins, Thorne; both of you get dressed and get a First Aid kit," Barclay ordered. "Wait, what? What the hell's going on?" Thorne asked him tiredly. "Someone's been hurt in the kennel," Barclay explained, just as he noticed Connant and Carrington exiting their rooms. Soon, everyone could bee seen and accounted for in the hallway. Everyone, that was, except Anthony Reynolds.

"Where's Tony?" Hendry asked as he noticed the secondary cook's absence. "The kennel," Barclay said in confirmation. He quickly pushed through the group and ran through the hallway, catching up with Pomroy and Walters as they made their way to the kennel, where the dogs could still be heard barking and howling.

Hendry looked around at the other men, all of whom were still in various states of undress and confusion. "Get your clothes on and get after them! The man could be hurt!" Hendry ordered before he retreated to his room and took his own orders. Atkins quickly ran back into his room, dragging Thorne with him before he started getting dressed.

 **Back At The Kennel, A Few Minutes Later...**

Sykes and Colin snarled and barked at the horrifying sight in front of them, while most of the other dogs were backing away and whimpering in fear or snarling defensively. Currently, the intruder had sprouted dozens of tendrils and worm-like tentacles, all covered in slime and blood. Some of them had attached themselves to the railings and support beams of the hall and outside of the kennel, while others had enveloped Reynolds, who could no longer scream as several tendrils had forced themselves down his throat and around his neck. The only thing standing between the dogs and the monster was their cage, and the tentacles were currently attempting to slip through the holes in said cage.

Sykes growled and barked at one such worm-like tendril as it slithered through the chain-link cage wall. Soon, several more followed, causing the dogs to realize that they were now cornered. Some of them continued snarling and barking, while others howled for help. A strange and terrible cry, somehow both organic and mechanical in nature, soon erupted from the abomination outside the kennel, and the dogs all looked at it in fear before barking and howling at it.

As more tentacles slithered through the cage wires, Colin charged forward and bit down on one of them, causing the beast to cry briefly, before Colin tugged and ripped the tentacle away from the rest, throwing it onto the floor. Sykes and Hoskins soon joined Colin in attacking the invading tentacles, while the other dogs watched them, still howling and whimpering in fear before the sound of heavy footsteps and breathing entered the kennel hallway. Some of the dogs looked over in jubilation as they heard the voice of their handler.

Outside the cage, Pomroy stopped running and grabbed Walters by the coat to stop him from charging forward. Both men stared in wide-eyed horror at what lay before them. "Pomroy, what's Reynolds' status!?" Barclay asked as he ran into the hall outside the kennel. "Pomroy, did you hear... me?" Barclay asked as he soon reached the two men. His jaw dropped in shock and bewilderment as he saw the mass of flesh, blood, and arachnid legs that had grabbed the walls.

The mass seemed to pulsate while the tentacles reached around the hall, forcing Barclay to finally see what had become of Reynolds. "R-Reynolds?" Barclay asked with a gasp. Reynolds' shirt was lying on the floor, bloodied and tattered, while numerous blood and goo-covered tentacles surrounded him. Some of them had melded into his left eye and his shoulders, while others had forced themselves down his throat.

Reynolds' right eye was wide and darting around, almost as though he were still conscious and aware of what was happening. His left arm and hand were outstretched, grabbing onto a coat hook attached to the wall. Tentacles had covered the arm and had fused to his hand. Veins would be seen running between the two bodies where they merged.

At the center of the Thing's mass was a split-open head, with the upper and lower jaws split apart like flower petals as three brown antennae-like stalks with green eyes looked around. The ears on the upper portions of the head that had fallen like petals had formed bridges of flesh to the shoulder region, with a lone set of earrings visible in on of them. In the center of the torso was an open mouth, with sharp teeth and mandibles visible, while the power torso region was simply a pulsating mass of flesh, blood, ooze, tentacles, tendrils, hair, and bits of bone. Near the edge of what had been a foot, a set of lips were opening and closing on their own, while an eye on the upper torso glanced around the room excitedly.

"Walters... go tell Dutton to get a flamethrower," Barclay said. "W-What!?" Walters asked him. "I said GO! DO IT!" Barclay barked at him forcefully. Walters quickly nodded his head and passed around Barclay to get back to the main hallway. Barclay looked over at the door to the kennel. It was still closed.

"Pom, stay back. The kennel door is still closed. The dogs look like they're okay, so-" "What's going on!?" asked Lambert as he rushed into the hall. "Reynolds! Reynolds, what the hell did you do!?" Stiles could be heard asking as he and the others entered the hallway.

"Everyone stay back. Stay back!" Barclay shouted as he turned around to see the others coming up behind him and Pomroy. "Reynolds, what... the _fuck?_ " Sanchez asked as he saw the fusion of Reynolds and the Other. "Alright, I'm here! Just stand back and let me..." Atkins' words died in his throat as he rounded the corner and saw what was in the hall.

Looking at Reynolds, Atkins stepped back in horror as he saw the man's left arm soon split open as bloody and sinewy strings shot out and up at the ceiling. Barclay narrowed his eyes at the abomination. "Doc, stand back," Barclay said as he unholstered his pistol. He checked the chamber and switched off the safety before taking aim. "Guys, cover your ears!" Barclay shouted above the cacophony of the dogs barking and the strange cry that came out of the Thing.

Barclay aimed at the center mass and fired. Green puss spat out as the Thing took damage from each bullet. The horror screamed in pain and began pulling itself up with its arachnid-like limbs off of the floor. "Shit!" Barclay swore as he reloaded his gun. He then heard a guttural, strangled gurgling noise and looked over at Reynolds, whose head had fused solid with the tentacles, but was now starting to split open from the side and reveal several teeth.

Barclay quickly aimed and fired at the man's head, hoping to take out whatever was left of him as quickly as possible. A tentacle shot out of Reynolds' chest and whipped at Barclay, causing him to fall back in surprise, knocking Pomroy over onto the floor and sending Atkins falling back into the others behind them.

"Jesus Christ!" Ralsen exclaimed as he got a better look at the Thing in the hallway. "What the fuck is that!?" Stiles asked in fear and confusion. "Where the hell is Dutton with that flamethrower!?" Barclay asked in frustration as he dove behind a crate on the floor when another tentacle whipped at him. Pomroy quickly crawled over behind another crate and looked over into the hallway.

"The dogs. The dogs! Bar, what about the dogs!?" Pomroy asked. "The cage is still intact! They should be okay for now!" Barclay shouted over at him. The dogs were still barking and howling. Soon, one of those howls turned from one for help, to one of pain. "The hell they are!" Pomroy hissed in anger and fear for his dogs.

"Pom, stay where you are!" Barclay yelled as another tentacle struck the floor near him. "You go out there, you're a dead man!" "But I can't leave them!" Pomroy shot back. "Stand aside, stand aside!" came the voice of Dutton as the muscular man made his way through the hall. "Okay, what's this about a mon...ster?" Dutton asked in awe as he saw the Thing. "Holy shit," Dutton muttered as he became paralyzed.

"Dutton, burn the fucker!" Barclay exclaimed. Dutton was frozen in his spot. "Goddammit, Dutton! Fucking burn it!" Barclay shouted at him. Dutton finally snapped out of his reverie as he aimed the flamethrower up at the hideous creature on the wall. "Just don't hit the dogs!" Pomroy cried out. "I won't," Dutton said before sending a stream of fire out of the nozzle of the flamethrower.

The hallway was lit up, and the dogs went quiet at seeing the display. The Thing let loose a terrible cry of anger and anguish before Dutton sent another stream of fire at it, causing it to fall to the floor and crash. "Let it burn a little! Let it burn a little!" Barclay shouted as he saw Caldwell grab a fire extinguisher sitting on the floor.

"We can't let it keep! It'll set the whole place on fire!" Pomroy exclaimed as he peeked out from behind his crate. "Just wait a little longer!" Barclay pleaded. Another minute went by before finally gave the okay for Caldwell to move in. Crenna soon followed with a towel in his hands as he whipped it at spots of smoke and flame on the wall where Caldwell was missing.

After five minutes, the smoke had cleared. Stepping forward, the men of Hawke Station examined the burned remains of what had once been a man and a strange and horrific being from another world. The dogs whimpered and whined in fear and eagerness at seeing Pomroy when he unlocked the cage and went inside to examine them, pointedly ignoring the remains of Reynolds.

When he was done, he turned around and saw that everyone else had surrounded the remains, with looks of sorrow, fear, confusion, and insecurity upon their faces. Finally bothering to look at the remains of his friend, Pomroy let out a breath and reached over to pet one of his dogs for comfort. The men of Hawke Station remained silent for a period, until it came time for them to begin covering and moving the remains to the lab, where they would stay as everyone went back to their rooms and tried to fool themselves into believing that they had simply had a nightmare.

* * *

Author's Notes: And so the terror begins again. Please let me know what you think of the story so far in your reviews.


	6. Face Value

**THE THING II: Hawke Station**

Disclaimer: John Carpenter's THE THING is property of Universal.

With this chapter, the story has now switched over to an M-Rating, for swearing, violence, gore, blood, and dark humor.

Also, like John Carpenter's film, many characters in this story are taken from the original novella, _Who Goes There?_ Barclay, Van Wall, Pomroy, Samuel Dutton, Ralsen, Kinner, Connant, Harvey, and Bart Caldwell are all characters found in the original story, along with Macready, Blair, Garry, Vance Norris, Clark, Benning(s), and Dr. Copper from John Carpenter's film.

* * *

 **Chapter 06: Face Value**

* * *

Date: Winter of 1982 - 1983

 **United States Antarctic Research Outpost "Hawke Station"**

Martin Crenna slowly walked into the dining room of Hawke Station with a troubled look on his face. He walked over to the coffee machine and set it up to percolate before grabbing a mug from a cabinet. He quietly looked around the room, seeing it empty. Normally, the room would have had signs of life when Kinner and Reynolds got up before everyone else. Kinner was in the kitchen, but Reynolds was... nowhere.

Crenna quietly sat down at a table and waited for his coffee to finish. He brought his hands up to his face and groaned in frustration. Soon, he heard foot steps approaching from the hallway.

Turning his head, Crenna saw Hendry walk into the dining room. "Morning, Martin," Hendry said with a nod of his head. "Morning, Charles," Crenna replied. "So... sleep well?" Hendry asked the geologist. "Not really. I, uh, had a bit of a nightmare," Crenna said tiredly. "Same here," Hendry said with a fake chuckle, accompanied by an obviously fake and worried smile.

"Please, Charles. Please, tell me it wasn't real," Crenna asked as he looked up at the station commander. Hendry looked down at his friend and sighed. "I'm sorry," Hendry said softly as he pulled out a chair and sat down. "So, what do we do now?" Crenna asked him.

Hendry raised his eyebrows before furrowing them in consideration. He was quiet for a few minutes as he pondered Crenna's query. "I... I don't know," Hendry said with uncertainty in his voice as he looked at the floor. "I don't know," he reiterated as he raised his head and looked Crenna in the face.

 **Meanwhile...**

Allison Barclay marched through the hallway and barged into the lab. "I told you, it's still here! It hasn't moved!" Stewart Carrington pleaded as he followed Barclay. He pointed to the tarp-covered mass on one of the lab tables. "See? It's still here, right where I left it last night," Carrington said.

Barclay walked over and grabbed the tarp before pulling it back, revealing the burnt and charred corpse of the alien with the pipe in its torso. It looked exactly as it had the previous night. Letting out a breath of relief, Barclay pulled the tarp back over the corpse. "I'm sorry, but that Thing we dealt with this morning had to come from _somewhere_ ," Barclay said as he turned around and looked at the doorway to the infirmary, where the Thing from that morning lay.

Walking out of the lab and back into the hallway, Barclay made his was through the hall, with Carrington close behind. "Now where are you going?" Carrington asked him. "The storage room," Barclay replied as he marched past a half-awake Sanchez in the hallway. Once they reached the door to the storage room, Barclay noticed that something was very wrong. The door wasn't locked, nor was it shut properly.

Barclay quickly pushed the door open and turned on the lights. Walking inside, he scanned the shelves that had been pushed back and up against the walls, lined with bags, rucksacks, tool boxes, spare jackets, boots, gloves, and other gear. Looking over to his right, Barclay saw the tables where the bodies from Outpost 31 had been stashed. All of them had been kept in body bags, and the body bags looked intact.

Not willing to dismiss his suspicions without a proper investigation, Barclay marched over to the body bags and pulled them away from each other. He checked them one at a time, searching for signs of tampering. Opening up one, he saw one of the burnt men. Unzipping the bag the full way, Barclay checked for any signs that something was missing. The body, while burnt, was still intact.

Barclay quickly zipped the bag back up before opening the next one. The burnt corpse, whose arms were missing, was still how it had been left. Barclay zipped the bag back up before moving onto the others. "Wait, where's the corpse from the snowcat?" he asked curiously. "Um, isn't that one still in the infirmary?" Carrington asked him. "Right," Barclay said.

Barclay then looked at the body bag closest to the wall. He stepped over and inspected the bag, checking for signs of tampering before unzipping it to reveal the bearded face of R.J. Macready. Barclay unzipped the bag further, uncovering the dead man's body. It was still intact. Barclay zipped the bag back up before looking at the last one, between Macready's bag and the others.

Scanning the bag for tampering, Barclay found three small holes in it. He soon noticed that the zipper hadn't been properly closed all the way either. Yet, the body bag still seemed to be holding something. Barclay put a hand on it and pressed down, feeling something solid underneath the plastic. Grabbing the zipper, Barclay pulled it back, revealing that the bag had been stuffed with various winter gear.

Barclay stared at the gear in disbelief as his brain kicked into gear and began processing the significance behind this discovery. "Son of a _bitch_ ," Barclay muttered in realization. He looked over at Carrington, who was staring at the gear in surprise. "But... how?" Carrington asked in confusion.

"The damn thing wasn't dead," Barclay said before looking back at the holes in the bag. "Carrington, go meet up Connant and Atkins in the lab. I want you guys to examine that thing and make sure that it's dead. Find out as much as you can. I'm gonna go get the others and call a meeting in the infirmary later," Barclay said.

* * *

 **The Infirmary, Later...**

Jonathan Connant looked at the burned remains of what had once been Anthony Reynolds and a man named Childs. Standing around the table in the lab were the rest of Hawke Station's crew, with Barclay sitting on a stool nearby. Everyone looked around at each other and the burnt corpse with a sense of unease. On the floor nearby was the gear-filled body-bag from which the Childs-Thing had emerged in the night.

"Well, it would appear, gentlemen, that the tape Captain Barclay ordered us to listen to the other night did _not_ contain the ramblings of a madman," Connant said as he began pacing around the examination table. "So the crew of Outpost Thirty-One were actually taken over and killed by an _alien?_ " Sanchez asked in disbelief.

"Well sure, Sanchez. We all knew that. We just didn't wanna tell you until you were ready," Ralsen snarked. Sanchez sent a glare at the man. "Both of you, cool it," Barclay said sternly.

"Now, Ralsen. I'd like to know just how well you, Lambert, and Connant secured those body-bags when you put them away," Barclay said with a frown. "We zipped 'em up and closed the door," Ralsen replied. "Well, the door was unlocked and open this morning," Barclay said as he glared at Ralsen.

"What caused those holes in the bag?" Crenna asked as he looked down at the body-bag. "Take a wild guess," Stiles said. "I don't get it," Dutton said. "What's not to get?" Lambert asked him. "If this thing were alive all this time, why did it wait until last night to do anything? Why not get up as soon as it had thawed out? I mean, none of us knew what the hell was going on when the bodies were first brought back," Dutton elaborated.

"That's a good question," Hendry commented. "I don't know. Maybe we should see if it's still alive and ask it," Barclay said with a snide smile. "Let's _not_ ," Van Wall said.

"What exactly was it doing to Reynolds anyway?" Harvey asked before taking a sip of his whiskey. "Harvey, put down the damn bottle," Hendry scolded him. "After what I saw this morning? I don't think so," Harvey said before taking another sip. "Harvey, we need you sober, now put down the damn bottle and pull up your big-boy pants," Barclay ordered sternly as he sent a withering glare towards the backup helicopter pilot.

Harvey looked around the room at the others, all of whom were staring at him, before he looked back at Barclay. " _Fine_ ," he said reluctantly as he lowered the bottle and screwed the cap back on. "Go get some coffee then. You'll need it to sober up," Hendry told him. "Sure. I'll get right on that later," Harvey said.

"Actually," Connant spoke up, "I would like to provide an answer to Harvey's question. As we were told in that recording, and as Bar was told by Doctor Lloyd a couple days ago, this organism assimilates and then imitates other life forms. See this here? See these teeth and jaw muscles?" Connant asked the group as he used a pen to point at one of the split open jaws, which still had teeth and lips.

"That isn't human flesh; it's imitation flesh. Those are imitation teeth as well, and they're damn near perfect too. From what we've seen and heard so far, in order to assimilate another life form, this thing must initiate some kind of physical contact with its prey," Connant explained as he paced back and forth. "The main body mass must somehow come into contact with said prey and then begin the assimilation process through an as of yet unknown means," Connant said.

"For instance, when it attacked Reynolds, it enveloped him with these tendrils or tentacles or whatever, and as we can see here," Connant said as he pointed to a collection of tendrils that had forced themselves into Reynolds' mouth and down his throat, "they went inside his body to provide further and more thorough physical contact to enable a complete take over from both outside and in." Connant then pointed to the joined flesh of the two men. "Now, here is the part that shows us that, during the process, the Thing _merges_ with its prey as it absorbs them, allowing it to presumably consume and replicate their biological structure before spitting out a perfect imitation of the original. A near-perfect forgery, indistinguishable from the original person or animal," Connant said.

"If this thing had had more time to finish, Reynolds would have been a complete and perfect imitation, and we would have been none the wiser," Connant said. "Yeah, but... why did it turn into a monster during this process?" Kinner asked as he saw the split-open head and jaws, along with the burnt eye stalks and various arachnid limbs.

"Well, those could be either a shock and awe tactic to immobilize its prey and allow it to get close enough to initiate physical contact, _or_... it may perhaps be a defensive ability, to ensure that it can survive if something attacks it during the assimilation process. The fact that it can form these various parts, which I assume are from either previous victims or its original form, means that this thing has an extremely diverse genetic memory," Connant explained. "G-Genetic memory?" Hendry asked him.

"Various traits and abilities held with the DNA of previous hosts and prey. See those legs?" Connant asked as he pointed to the arachnid limbs. "Those aren't human. They're from something else. Whether it's the creature's original form or another host, I'm not sure," Connant replied. "It's also possible that the transformation is _part_ of the assimilation process, and that the creature must revert portions of its body to some of its original form when initiating assimilation," Connant suggested.

"Does that mean it could eventually reach a point where there's nothing left from its original form?" Caldwell asked him. "I don't know. I have to conduct a more thorough examination of this thing and its cells in order to learn anything more," Connant replied. "Well... at least it's dead," Ralsen said with a shrug. "Ralsen, I want you and Lambert to clean the storage room together. I want every inch of that room sterilized. Both of you work together, and neither of you leave the other one alone, understand?" Barclay said.

"Uh, Bar? Those bodies in there are toast," Lambert said. "Not all of them. Macready's body is still intact, and I don't want to take any risks. We don't know for certain that he's still human," Barclay said. "He's _dead_ ," Ralsen said. "So was the other man," Barclay countered as he pointed to the Thing on the table.

"Yeah, okay. I guess that's a pretty good point," Ralsen said reluctantly. "When do you want us to start?" Lambert asked. Barclay looked over at Connant. "Con? Is there anything else you can tell us about this thing?" Barclay asked him. "Not really. We already know as much as we possibly can at this point. I have to conduct a further examination to learn more," Connant replied.

"Alright then. Well, I guess you boys can get started on that room... now," Barclay said. "Yes _sir_ ," Ralsen said with a mock salute. He and Lambert quickly made their way out of the room and into the hallway, heading for the supply closet to get cleaning supplies.

Barclay looked around at the rest of the group. "Sanchez, Caldwell? I want the two of you to try contacting the Soviets at Lazarev Station. Tell them what's happened and warn them that their prizes may not be completely dead. They weren't burned like the other one we found," Barclay said.

"Yes sir," Sanchez said wearily as he and Caldwell exited the infirmary. "I want the rest of you to resume your... normal duties for the time being," Barclay said. Everyone nodded their heads and exited the room, leaving only the six people behind. "Hendry?" Barclay asked when he realized that Hendry hadn't left the room.

"Bar... Reynolds is dead, and you want everyone to just go about their business as though nothing's happened?" Hendry asked him with a look of disgust and confusion on his face. "No, that's not what I'm doing. I'm just trying to make sure that everyone keeps up what they're supposed to do," Barclay replied. "I'm just trying to keep things moving," he added.

"All right. Now, about the Soviets; do you really believe that they need our help? They're self-sufficient enough," Hendry said begrudgingly. "Hendry, they have two alien bodies, and one of them might not actually be dead. Silva hasn't taken the pictures out of the dark room yet, has he?" Barclay asked. "Nope. It seems that you interrupted him with your roll call earlier. Maybe you should get him to take some pictures of these things while you're at it. At least to provide evidence of what's happened," Hendry said.

"Yeah... we're gonna have to report this at some point. But we still have the body over here," Barclay said as he jerked a thumb back at the Thing on the table. "Yes, but we should have more evidence. In case something happens to it. When we report this, we'll have witness testimonies, the bodies, and even the supporting evidence regarding the destruction of Outpost Thirty-One and Thule Station to back us up. Those pictures are just one more piece of evidence to convince everyone that we aren't lying when this is all over," Hendry said in a soft and gentle manner.

"You sound like my grandfather," Barclay said with a snort. "Well, I'm not _that old_ , at least not yet," Hendry said with a grin. "So, you aren't gonna have a shouting match with me about saving the Soviets?" Barclay asked him. "Well... this means that they'll owe _us_ if we end up saving them, and you did make a good point earlier," Hendry admitted. "Which was?" Barclay asked him curiously.

"If one of those things _is_ only sleeping, then that means we may not be able to stop it in time, since the Soviets don't have access to all of the information that we have. I don't like 'em, but I'm not exactly anxious to see anyone else die either. So, why don't you go wait in the radio room with Bart and Tom, while I go get Van Wall and Harvey," Hendry suggested. "What do you need them for?" Barclay asked him.

"I want them to prep the helicopters, just in case we need them," Hendry replied. Barclay nodded his head in agreement. "Okay. You go do that, and I'll go wait in the radio room," Barclay said as he got up and walked out of the infirmary, with Hendry walking behind him.

 **Twenty Minutes Later...**

Connant grabbed three petri dishes and set them next to each other on the counter next to a microscope. "Thorne, will you please fetch some spare blood from the cooler? I have a little test I want to perform," Connant asked. "Sure," Thorne said as he stepped away from the corpse on the table and removed his surgical gloves. "Hey, Atkins?" Thorne asked as he tapped the older man's left shoulder.

"Yeah?" "Connant wants me to get some spare blood from the cooler. Can I have the keys?" Thorne asked him. "Sure," Atkins replied as he unhooked the spare key from his ring. "Here," Atkins said as he handed the key over. Thorne nodded his head in appreciation before walking over to the cooler and unlocking it. "Hey, Connant?" Thorne asked. "Yes?" Connant responded. "Does it matter whose blood I'm retrieving, or what blood type?" Thorne asked.

"Type B. Same as Reynolds," Connant replied. "Got it," Thorne said before selecting a small bag and removing it from the cooler. "Here," Thorne said as he handed the bag of blood to Connant. "Just poor a small amount in those two petri dishes. Leave the third one alone," Connant instructed him. "Okay," Thorne said as he slowly opened and carefully poured a small amount of blood in both dishes.

"Done. Do you need anything else while the cooler's still open?" Thorne asked Connant. "No. That won't be necessary. Just return the blood to the fridge," Connant replied before putting on some new gloves and retrieving a scalpel. He went over to the Thing corpse with the third petri dish and carefully began slicing into it, retrieving some tissue and blood from the body before returning to the counter and placing the petri dish under the microscope.

Meanwhile, Thorne had returned the blood to the fridge and had locked it again before returning the key to Atkins. "So, what's the blood for?" Thorne asked him. "Something I wanna get a better understanding of," Connant said. "And, what would that be?" Thorne asked him.

"I want a better look at this thing's cell structure," Connant replied. "How does the blood help with that?" Atkins asked him. "You'll see," Connant said before he peered into the microscope.

The majority of the imitation cells were dead, Connant could clearly see, but some of them were still alive. The cells looked like those of an ordinary human. They slowly moved about in the dish, acting as though their host were still alive.

Connant removed the dish from under the microscope and retrieved the first normal blood sample. He placed it under the microscope and then grabbed a small set of tweezers and scalpel before removing a tiny piece of the Thing blood. He carefully placed the sample in the petri dish and resumed his observations.

In the petri dish, the Thing cells were outnumbered by the human cells. While the completely dead cells did nothing when contact between them and the human cells occurred, the living Thing cells had a clear response. Connant watched as one cell deliberately collided with a human cell and sent out a microscopic series of barbs, which penetrated the human cell.

The cell quickly began pulling the human cell into it, absorbing it and merging the two cells together to form one large cell. The contents of the human cell were soon infected and reshaped to be that of an imitation, before the large cell split itself apart in two. The two imitation cells then repeated the process with each human cell they came into contact with, never once repeating the process with an imitation cell by accident. After seven minutes, every cell in the dish was now an imitation, behaving as human cells while hiding their true identity.

Connant looked away from the microscope and began jotting down his notes. "Holy shit," he muttered to himself in awe and fear, catching the attention of the others in the room. "What's wrong?" Atkins asked him. "Gentlemen... we need to find out how long this thing was wandering the station before it attacked Reynolds," Connant said as he looked at Atkins and Thorne with a worried expression.

"Why?" Thorne asked him. "Because its rate of assimilation is faster than I expected. And, more importantly, it isn't dead yet," Connant explained. Thorne looked over at the burnt corpse with a worried expression. "Are you serious?" he asked Connant. "Positive. There's still cellular activity in these remains," Connant replied in a somber tone.

"How much activity?" Atkins asked him. "Enough that this thing could still assimilate someone if enough of it were to make contact with them," Connant replied. "And just how much is enough?" Thorne asked. "That's the problem; I'm not entirely certain. The blood I used for this experiment wasn't fresh from a living body. I don't know for certain how the immune system would-wait a minute. Thorne, get a sterilized scalpel and a completely clean petri dish," Connant said.

"Why?" Thorne asked him with a raised eyebrow. "I want to expose a sample of fresh blood, your blood, to this things cells and see what happens," Connant replied. "I'm not letting you touch me with that thing," Thorne retorted. "Thorne... did you even listen to a word I said? I said get a _petri dish_ for your own blood. That way you don't come into contact with it yourself," Connant said.

"Just give me a minute," Thorne said reluctantly as he grabbed a scalpel and cleaned it with hot water and soap. "Here's a dish," Atkins said as he retrieved one from the cabinet. "Thanks," Thorne grumbled before he ran the edge of the blade against his thumb, spilling his blood into the dish. "Okay, that's good enough," Atkins said as he handed an adhesive medical strip to Thorne, who quickly applied it to his thumb before handing the petri dish to Connant.

"Thank you," Connant said as he took the dish and slid it under the microscope. He then retrieved another small sample from the other dish before retrieving a stopwatch and inserted it into the dish with Thorne's blood. Connant watched closely as the imitation cells drew near the Thorne cells. The imitation cells quickly began the assimilation process after coming into contact with Thorne's blood cells, albeit at a slower pace. However, after several more minutes, the result was the same: All of the human blood cells had been assimilated and replicated as imitations.

Connant frowned before writing down his observations in his notebook. "Well? We're waiting, Connant," Atkins said. "Yeah. The suspense is killing me," Thorne snarked. Connant looked over at his stopwatch and back at the petri dish. "Gentlemen... do we know how long this thing was wandering the station before it attacked Reynolds?" Connant asked them.

Thorne and Atkins looked at each other before shaking their heads. "No. No, we were both asleep in our rooms when Reynolds was attacked," Atkins said. "What time did you both go to bed?" Connant asked them. "Uh... some time before midnight? I think," Thorne said. "What about yourself?" Atkins asked Connant. "Shortly beforehand," Connant replied.

"What about you, Carrington?" Thorne asked as he looked over at the table where Carrington had been sitting earlier. "Uh, Carrington?" Thorne asked as he and the others looked around the room for any sign of the man. "Where'd he go?" Atkins asked. "Carrington?" Connant called out as he got off of his stool and walked over to the entrance to the lab. Inside the lab, Carrington was busy examining the remains of the burnt Thing from the ship.

"Uh, hey, Carrington," Connant said. "Hm?" Carrington responded, looking away from the microscope in front of him and over at Connant. "What time did you go to bed last night?" Connant asked him. "Around midnight," Carrington replied.

"You left this thing here then?" Connant asked him as Thorne and Atkins walked up behind him and looked over his shoulders. "Yes. What's this about?" Carrington asked defensively. "How much have you examined it so far?" Connant asked him. "I've been looking at tissue cultures and blood samples from inside," Carrington replied. "And the frozen flesh... has thawed?" Connant asked him.

"Slowly," Carrington said. "You know, it doesn't really have as much of an odor to it anymore," Thorne said as he sniffed the air. "It's been here long enough for us to get used to it," Carrington said sharply. "Did you cover it up before you left the lab?" Connant asked him. "Yes. Of course I did. And it was still covered-up when I came back this morning. You can ask Barclay; I showed to him as well," Carrington said with a frown.

"Stewart... is there any sign of cellular activity within those remains?" Connant asked him. "What do you mean?" Carrington asked him. "Are any of the cells still alive?" Connant clarified.

"Well... I haven't really been able to go very deep in my extractions so far. All of the burnt flesh is completely dead. I can tell you that much for certain," Carrington replied. "Did you notice anything unusual before you went to bed? Anything at all in the hallways? Any noises or shadows on the walls?" Connant asked him. "I don't believe so," Carrington replied. Connant nodded his head before backing off. Atkins and Thorne both stepped back to allow the older man to retreat back over to his spot by the microscope and petri dishes.

 **The Radio Room...**

"Still nothing," Caldwell said. "Maybe we don't have the right frequency?" Sanchez asked as he looked at the radio equipment's channel settings. "Possibly," Caldwell replied. "So, Bar, do you really think that the Soviets are in trouble?" Sanchez asked Barclay, who was sitting on a stool next to Caldwell. "I just want to give them a heads-up. This thing survived thousands of years in the snow and ice before the Norwegians found it," Barclay said.

"If it can sleep that long and still wake up like a little kid on Christmas morning, then we shouldn't take any chances. If anything happens to the Soviets, then we're all alone in this mess, and that Thing can easily make its way to another station without anyone realizing what's going on. From there... it can go anywhere it wants," Barclay said in grim realization.

"Okay, I got 'em!" Caldwell exclaimed. " _H-Hello? This is Mikhail of Lazarev Station. Who is calling?_ " a man with a Russian accent asked. Barclay took over the microphone. "This is Captain Barclay of Hawke Station. We have a situation over here and I need to speak with your other English-speakers. It is very important," Barclay said, making sure to structure his sentences carefully.

A few minutes later, Barclay was speaking to Boris and Vassili as well. " _We want proof of your claims, Captain Barclay. Our station commander in here with us, and he will only cooperate if there is proof that what you say is true,_ " Vassili said. "Then tell him to send a helicopter over here and have someone bring a camera," Barclay responded in frustration.

The radio was quiet for a couple of minutes, until Mikhail spoke. " _Pavlo has agreed to your terms. We will send someone to your camp tomorrow morning by helicopter with a camera. We expect them to return to us unharmed after the visit,_ " Mikhail said. "Fine. Fine. You have my word that they will be unharmed," Barclay said.

" _I will relay this to Pavlo. Be sure to let your team know that we are coming. We do not want any trouble,_ " Mikhail said. "I will do that. Just tell me what time your guys will be arriving tomorrow," Barclay replied. There was another brief period of silence before Mikhail spoke.

" _The helicopter will arrive before noon,_ " Mikhail said. "Okay. We'll be waiting. Captain Barclay of Hawke Station, out," Barclay said before turning off the radio. "Hendry is not going to like this," Caldwell said. "I know. I also don't care," Barclay said before he stood up and walked out of the room.

 **Two Hours Later...**

Barclay stepped out of the shower stall and quickly dried himself off with a towel before getting dressed. Deciding that the pants and shirt that he'd worn earlier were still good for another day, he only changed his underwear and socks before putting his other clothes back on, including his indoor shoes, which were basically sneakers. He quickly gathered his dirty clothes and made his way over to the hamper for the dirty clothes. Just as he was about to dispose of his dirty underwear, he paused.

Sticking out from under the underwear hamper was a pair of boxers. Disposing of his underwear and socks in the hamper, Barclay knelt down and carefully pried the fabric out from under the hamper. He studied the fabric in his hands, noticing several holes and ripped areas throughout the underwear. The name tag was also missing.

Barclay reached under the hamper and moved it around as he searched the floor for the missing name tag. After a few minutes of searching, he stopped and glanced back at the shredded fabric in his hand. There was something about it that made him wary. There was a sensation of familiarity tugging at the back of his mind as he looked over the torn-up underwear. He scratched his head as he desperately tried to think of why this shredded undergarment had him on edge. And then it hit him.

 _I think it rips through your clothes when it takes you over._

Macready's words played through Barclay's head as he held up the ripped drawers. _Wait... we don't know how long that thing was wandering the station before it attacked Reynolds_ , Barclay thought to himself as realization dawned on him. " _Shit!_ " he swore under his breath. He quickly stood up and ran out of the shower room and into the hallway. He quickly made his way down to the main hallway and ran towards the lab and the infirmary.

He burst into the infirmary, causing the four men inside to stop talking among themselves and look at him in curiosity. "Is something wrong?" Atkins asked him. Barclay held up the shredded drawers in his hand. "We have a problem," Barclay said, almost out of breath. "Your underwear got shredded," Carrington said dryly.

"These aren't mine," Barclay said as he held out the underwear to show them the missing name tag. "Okay. What's your point?" Carrington asked him. "Remember the tape?" Barclay asked them. "What about it?" Thorne asked. "This thing rips through your clothes when it takes you over," Barclay spat.

"Okay. We saw Reynolds' clothes torn up on around the kennel when that thing attacked him. That isn't anything new," Atkins said. "Dammit, you idiots! He's saying that Reynolds wasn't the only victim!" Connant exclaimed, having quickly caught on to what Barclay was trying to communicate.

"Where did you find those?" Carrington asked him. "They were in the shower room, underneath the hamper," Barclay replied. "They don't seem to have any blood on them. Reynolds' clothes were covered in blood and slime when we arrived at the kennel," Carrington pointed out. "Yes, because putting these in the shower room means that the blood will stay on them," Barclay snarked.

"What size are they?" Atkins asked. Barclay looked over at the others carefully. "It's a size large. What do you guys wear?" Barclay asked them. "Large," Thorne replied. "Same here," Atkins said. "We all wear large," Connant said. "So they could be anybody's," Thorne said.

"Yeah. Which means someone in this camp ain't who he says he is," Barclay noted grimly. "Do you suppose... that perhaps the tag might still be in the shower room somewhere?" Atkins asked him. "I couldn't find them when I looked," Barclay replied.

"Wait... how do you know that those are the result of someone being attacked? How old are those underwear?" Carrington asked. "Stewart, look at them," Thorne said. "Well, if they had been part of an attack, why do they look dry? Even if they were washed, wouldn't they still be moist from being in the shower room?" Carrington pointed out.

"No, no... that's a good point," Atkins said. Barclay looked at the shredded underwear in his hands, trying to find any moisture. "Well, they're not _completely_ dry, but not as moist or as wet as they should be if they'd been in there since last night," Barclay said. "But what about the missing name tag?" Thorne asked.

"Are we sure the name wasn't washed off? Some of our undergarments have our names merely stenciled or written in marker," Carrington said. Barclay nodded his head in agreement, before looking over at the physicist. "Carrington? Do you remember... just what time it was that you left the lab last night?" Barclay asked him.

"Shortly before midnight. I've already told you this, Bar," Carrington replied defensively. "And you're positive that the thing on the table is still exactly as you left it?" Barclay asked him pointedly. " _Yes!_ For the love of-!" Carrington responded in frustration. "Look, that thing is _dead_ , okay? It's been burned to a crisp. It's not going to get up and wander the station like a zombie! The only bodies that could possibly be hibernating are the ones that aren't burnt," Carrington said.

"Not true. There's still cellular activity in the remains of this thing in here," Connant said as he pointed to the Reynolds-Childs Thing. "Hold on, what did you say?" Barclay asked him. "I said it's not dead yet," Connant replied. Barclay looked at the burnt corpse on the table, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"Yes, but that one is _fresh_ ," Carrington pointed out. "The other bodies have all been burned for at least a week or more, and the one I'm working on has been dead for centuries. It isn't in good condition like that one that the... Soviets... took," Carrington said. "Hey, that's right. Have you managed to contact the Soviets yet?" Atkins asked Barclay. "Yeah. I talked to them earlier," Barclay replied.

"Did they believe you?" Atkins asked him. "They want proof of our claims. They're gonna send someone over here tomorrow to take some pictures," Barclay said. "Is Hendry going to be okay with Soviets setting foot in here?" Atkins asked him. "I haven't told him yet," Barclay replied. "You should probably do that," Thorne said.

"I know. In the meantime, I want you guys to check the remains of that other thing in the lab and make sure that it's dead. Finish studying this thing in here, and then get your notes ready. I'm calling a meeting in here later. I'm gonna go talk to Hendry, and then I'm gonna try to find out whose drawers these are. I need to find out who was where and when last night before that Thing attacked Reynolds," Barclay said before turning around and leaving the room.

"He's losing it," Carrington muttered after Barclay was out of earshot. Connant fixed him a glare before returning his attention to his notes. He glanced back over at Carrington suspiciously, before staring at the petri dishes on the counter. With Barclay's most recent find, Connant began working on a new series of formulas in his notebook.

Eventually, a grim expression adorned Connant's face as he finished his calculations. He looked back over his shoulder at Atkins and Thorne, both of whom were still inspecting the Reynolds-Childs Thing on the table, while Carrington had returned to the lab to inspect the specimen from the ship once more. With great reluctance, Connant forced himself to accept a grim reality: one or more members of the station had already been infected prior to Reynolds' assimilation, and he had no idea who they were.

* * *

Author's Notes: While not much occurs in this particular chapter, it does set up the drama of what's to come. In the next chapter, the Soviets make yet another appearance, and everyone at Hawke Station becomes suspicious once the truth about The Thing is revealed.


	7. Terror At Lazarev Station

**THE THING II: Hawke Station**

Disclaimer: John Carpenter's THE THING is property of Universal.

* * *

 **Chapter 07: Terror At Lazarev Station**

* * *

Date: Winter of 1982 - 1983

 **United States Antarctic Research Outpost "Hawke Station"**

"Hendry? I need to talk to you," Allison Barclay said as he walked into the station commander's office. Hendry was busy reading a book when Barclay arrived. With a sigh, Hendry put a book mark between the pages he was reading before closing the book and setting it down on the table.

"Alright, what do you need, Bar?" Hendry asked the younger man. "Hendry, I have two very important things to discuss. First, I contacted the Soviets," Barclay said. "Yes. I'm well aware that you've been trying to do that," Hendry said. "Chuck, they don't believe me," Barclay said. "They... _don't_ believe you? They've been inside the ship. They've presumably seen the Norwegian camp. And they have two alien corpses in their possession; _proof_ of extraterrestrial life, and yet... they _don't_ believe you?" Hendry asked in disbelief.

"They think that I'm trying to scam them into giving the bodies to us so that we can take credit for them," Barclay said. "Are you _serious?_ " Hendry asked him skeptically. "Well, they didn't explicitly _say_ any of that, but it's the only explanation I can think of for their response," Barclay replied. "So, what do you plan to do about it?" Hendry asked him.

"They're sending someone here tomorrow to take pictures of the body and confirm our story," Barclay said. Hendry stared at him with a raised eyebrow. Barclay waited with baited breath for a response from the man. "I... see," Hendry said reluctantly, clasping his hands together as he mulled over the situation in his mind.

"There's... one other thing that I need to talk about with you," Barclay said. "Go on," Hendry said. "I don't think that Reynolds was that thing's first victim," Barclay said bluntly. Hendry quietly studied Barclay for signs of fatigue. "Are you serious? Why do you think that?" Hendry asked him curiously.

"I found these," Barclay said as he held up the shredded underwear. Hendry looked at the underwear, before looking back at Barclay's face. "I see London, I see France. I also see someone's underpants," Hendry said with a snort. "Charles, didn't you listen to the tape? That _Thing_ rips through people's clothes when it takes them over," Barclay retorted.

"So? I don't see any blood or alien slime on those," Hendry said as he glanced at the underwear again. "Dammit, they were in the shower room when I found them! The name tag is missing, and we don't know how long ago it happened," Barclay shot at him. "Watch your tone, _Allison_ ," Hendry said sternly.

"Hendry, don't you care about what this means!?" Barclay asked him. "What _what_ means? Listen to yourself, Bar. You're claiming that a pair of shredded drawers is an omen of doom," Hendry retorted. "Uh... well, I-" "Bar, I think maybe you need to get some rest. Clear your head before you do something you'll regret later," Hendry said.

"Hendry, the thing in the lab isn't dead yet. There's still cellular activity in its remains. Connant confirmed it," Barclay said. "And just when do you think it had the chance to attack someone after we set it on fire?" Hendry asked him. " _Before_ , Hendry! Someone else was attacked before Reynolds," Barclay clarified.

"Who?" Hendry asked him. "I don't know. That's the problem. We've seen what this thing is capable of doing, Hendry. We can't take the chance that another one is still running around. We have to find out who's still human," Barclay said. Hendry sighed. "Bar. I think what happened to Reynolds is having a greater effect on you than you want to admit. If you want to be safe, then we'll burn the other corpses again so that there's no chance of that thing coming back to life," Hendry said.

"But the drawers, Hendry," Barclay protested. "What about them? How do you know for certain that someone didn't just decide to get rid of them at the wrong time?" Hendry asked him in response. "Then why remove the name tag?" Barclay countered. Hendry looked at the drawers again. "Alright. Fine. I think it's a wild goose chase, but... if we do have to be absolutely certain, then go ahead and try to find out who those belong to. Just don't let this turn into a lynch mob situation, understand?" Hendry said.

"I understand," Barclay said. "I hope so, Bar. I don't want this place to burn to the ground because you jumped to conclusions," Hendry said. "Now go on. Go find Connant. I'm sure he'll have some kind of math formula or something that you can use to figure this out," Hendry said before dismissing Barclay from his office. Barclay opened the door and walked past Kinner, who was just raising his hand to knock.

"Hey Kinner," Barclay said as he walked by the cook. Barclay stopped walking before turning around as Kinner was about to step into Hendry's office. "Hey, Kinner? Are these yours?" Barclay asked as he held up the shredded drawers. "No," Kinner said after taking a minute to look over the undergarments. "You sure?" Barclay asked him. "Yeah. I already finished my laundry yesterday. All of my stuff is clean," the cook said before turning around.

Barclay nodded his head slowly before turning around and making his way back down the hallway. He saw Crenna leaving the geology lab before he started jogging towards the older man. He quickly caught up to the geologist. "Hey, Martin. Do you have a minute?" Barclay asked him. "Huh? Oh, sure," Crenna replied as he glanced over at Barclay while he continued walking towards the kitchen.

"Uh, Crenna. Have any of your clothes been torn up recently or gone missing?" Barclay asked him. "Not that I'm aware of. All of my clothes are just fine, thank you very much. Why do you ask?" Crenna responded. "I found someone's shredded drawers under the hamper today," Barclay explained.

"Sounds to me like someone didn't make it to bathroom on time after what we saw this morning," Crenna said. "No, they're dry. Look," Barclay retorted as he held up the drawers in Crenna's face. "Bar, what the heck?" Crenna asked in surprise. "Are you _certain_ that these aren't yours?" Barclay asked him again. "Yes, Bar! Jeez, what's gotten into you?" Crenna replied as he stepped away from Barclay in agitation.

"Sorry," Barclay said with a hint of shame. "I'm just... still a bit on edge since this morning," he added. "Yeah," Crenna said, nodding his head. "How are we going to explain what happened?" Crenna asked Barclay. "As long as we can show people the ship, we can tell them the truth," Barclay replied before walking away.

* * *

 **The Infirmary, Later That Evening...**

"You see, when the alien cell attacks a human cell, it absorbs it and merges itself with it, forming a larger super cell. Soon after, the super cell divides itself in two, with both cells being imitations that contain the same genetic information," Connant explained as he paced slowly around the table that the Reynolds-Childs Thing was on. "The whole process takes place in under a few seconds. The speed at which this happens also depends on the organism being attacked and its size," he added.

"Having tested both refrigerated blood from storage and fresh blood generously provided by Arnold over here," Connant said as he tilted his head towards said man, "I can confirm that the assimilation of fresh blood takes longer than blood from storage, although only by a few seconds." Barclay nodded his head as he looked around the room at everyone else. Everyone was accounted for, including Walters, who had been forcibly dragged from the greenhouse on Barclay's orders.

"So, how long would you say it takes for this thing to assimilate a full-grown man?" Silva asked curiously. "Probably an hour, give or take a few minutes," Connant replied. "How quickly does it heal damage?" Barclay asked him. "Well... the burnt portions of this thing here are completely dead. I've viewed them under the microscope with fresh blood. They have no life in them," Connant said.

"That's nice, but that isn't what I asked you," Barclay said. "The rate at which it assimilates something is probably equal to its rate of healing. Although, given how severely burnt this thing is, I don't think it can heal much more than whatever portions inside of it weren't exposed to the fire," Connant said with a slight hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"Can it regrow itself?" Barclay asked him. "Re... _grow_ itself? You mean like a starfish?" Connant asked him. "Yeah. If you chop a body part off, can it regrow that? Can the body part regrow into a larger creature?" Barclay asked him. "I have no idea, although given how viral this organism appears to be, it wouldn't be impossible for a small part to infect someone without the main body present, as the blood tests showed," Connant said.

"Wait, didn't you say earlier that this thing needs to merge its body with someone in order to take them over?" Lambert asked. "I was wrong. That was an erroneous assumption that I had made based on the available evidence at the time," Connant replied. "So... as long as the cells are still alive, it can infect someone and turn them into an imitation? From the inside out?" Silva asked him.

"Yes," Connant replied. "Can't the immune system stop it if the number of cells is small enough?" Walters asked. "I don't believe so. Perhaps, if the body recognizes the intruder, but given that this thing _imitates_ everything down to the cellular level, it's highly unlikely," Connant said. "What if you exposed dead cells to someone's blood, and then exposed living cells sometime afterward?" Carrington asked him.

"Like a vaccine?" Thorne asked. "Well, yes," Carrington replied. "We'd need to have fresh blood, and I wouldn't dare expose those cells to a whole human body," Connant said. "I'll give you some of my blood," Carrington offered. "No. I will," Barclay interjected. Everyone looked over at him. "Just get me some sterilized cups and a scalpel," Barclay said.

"I'll go get the needles," Thorne said. "Let's save that for later," Atkins said. "No. Let's do it now, while I still have the nerve," Barclay said. "Alright," Atkins said before he walked over to the sink while Thorne grabbed some needles and petri dishes. "How much blood do you need, though?" Barclay asked him. "Just enough for the petri dish," Connant said.

A few minutes later, Barclay was placing a band-aid over the spot where the needle had been removed. "So, why not just inject him with the dead cells and _then_ take his blood?" Harvey asked. "Because I don't want any part of that thing inside me," Barclay said as he rolled down his shirt sleeve. "Better safe than sorry," Thorne chimed in.

Atkins filled up the petri dish and then removed a small sample of the Reynolds-Thing's burnt flesh before placing it in the dish. He then placed it under the microscope and watched for any signs of activity. "Well, Doc? Is he gonna be okay? Do we have to put him down?" Ralsen asked with a snicker.

"Ralsen, shut the fuck up," Dutton said. "There's no reaction," Atkins said after a few minutes. "No shit," Barclay said. "How long would it take to expose the entirety of that petri dish to the dead cells?" Hendry asked. "Just give it a few more minutes. Then we'll take a sample of living cells from that Thing and see what happens," Atkins said.

A few minutes later, Atkins retrieved a small amount of cells from the Reynolds-Thing on the table with a needle and injected the tiniest amount possible into the dish. He carefully watched the dish through the microscope afterwards. At first, his hopes were raised as the imitation cells were recognized and attacked by the white blood cells in the sample. However, at least one cell became infected, allowing the imitation cells to multiply until only a few non-infected cells remained.

"Dear god," Atkins said. He watched for a few more minutes, before noticing that the surviving human cells were able to resist the attacks of the imitation cells. However, the small number of them was still disheartening. "So? What's the verdict?" Barclay asked him.

"If we'd done this using your body, you'd be undergoing assimilation right now, Bar. Only a few bits and pieces of you would remain untouched," Atkins replied. "Wait... so some of the human cells _were_ able to fight off the imitation cells?" Carrington asked. "Yes, but not enough," Atkins replied. "I need to continue observing this, to make certain that the resistant cells aren't eventually absorbed," Atkins said before returning his attention to the petri dish.

Ten minutes later, he looked back at the group as they anxiously waited and fidgeted around the table. "Good news: the surviving cells passed the test. The bad news is that the rest of the cells are all still imitations. Bar, you are one lucky son of a bitch," Atkins said.

"So, even trying to build an immunity to this thing would still result in someone becoming an imitation," Stiles commented. "It would seem so. This thing is too virulent for any vaccine to be properly produced for it, at least with the equipment that we have here," Atkins said. "Well, we can't just destroy it outright," Barclay said, surprising everyone.

"What?" Van Wall asked him curiously. "We need these remains for our report. We need to use them as proof of what's happened here, and at Thirty-One and the Norwegian camp. We destroy these outright, and we lose any chance of convincing proper authorities of the truth," Barclay elaborated.

"So... if this thing's cells are still alive, how do we know it won't heal itself and come after us before then?" Stiles asked. "We keep it locked away in a frozen location. Keep it from thawing out until Spring. We'll destroy it completely after our story has been accepted," Barclay replied.

"And, uh, just what location would we use for storing this thing?" Hendry asked him. Barclay looked over at Dutton. "Hey, Dutton? Is there any space in the vehicle garage?" Barclay asked the head mechanic. "Um... there might be, but why out there? Wouldn't it be easier just to throw it in a tool shack with the windows open?" Dutton replied.

Stiles scoffed. "Dutton, would there really be much difference between a tool shed and the vehicle garage? Both would be cold and away from the main building," Stiles pointed out. "Well, we can't quite move it just yet. We need to leave it here until the Soviets have checked it out tomorrow," Barclay said.

"Um... wait, the who?" Crenna asked him. "The Soviets are sending someone over here tomorrow to confirm our story. They want to see the remains of this thing so that they know we're telling the truth," Barclay said. "Um... they've seen the space ship and the destroyed Norwegian camp, right? Wouldn't those be enough for them to accept our claims about their specimens possibly not being dead?" Silva asked.

"Some people just don't use logic," Hendry said. "Silva, take some pictures of this thing, as well as the notes compiled by Connant and the others," Barclay said. "And Hendry, when our guest arrives tomorrow, I don't want you pointing a gun at them the moment they walk inside," Barclay said.

"Do you really doubt me that much?" Hendry asked him in response. "Hendry, I mean it," Barclay said firmly. "Don't worry, Bar. I'll be courteous and polite," Hendry said through gritted teeth. "Okay. Until then, everyone go back to your usual duties and routines," Barclay said before turning to look at Carrington, Connant, Atkins, and Thorne. "I want the four of you to continue studying this thing and keep it under close watch. Make sure all of the equipment in here is sterilized and cleaned before leaving tonight," he said.

"Oh, one more thing. Before we all depart," Barclay started as he held up the shredded underwear from earlier, "I want to know who decided to leave their long johns on the floor instead of putting it in the hamper like you're supposed to. It's a size large." Everyone looked around the room at each other in curiosity. "Anyone? You know that clothes are supposed to go in the hamper, not on the floor," Barclay said.

Carrington raised his hand. "Um, Bar? I thought-" "Thought what? That you could leave your dirty clothes lying everywhere and not take responsibility for it?" Barclay asked him pointedly, not wanting Carrington to let the true reasoning behind his questioning slip just yet. "Well, no, but those aren't mine," Carrington said.

Barclay stared at Carrington for nearly a minute, studying the man, before tearing his attention away and looking back around the room. "Van Wall, what size do you wear?" Barclay asked the pilot. "Large. You?" Van Wall asked in response. "Large," Barclay replied before looking around. "Bart?" Barclay asked Caldwell. "Extra Large," Caldwell replied.

Barclay looked over at Walters. "Dillon, what size-" "Large, just like you and nearly everyone else," Walters replied, crossing his arms. "Pomroy?" Barclay asked. "Large," Pomroy replied curtly. "Stiles?" Barclay asked. "Large," Stiles replied.

The process continued until everyone had been questioned. "Well, I guess if no one wants to take responsibility, I'll just hold onto these for the time being. Maybe I'll clean 'em up and use them as a washing rag," Barclay said, despite having no intention of actually doing so. Someone wasn't who they appeared to be, and if he let on that he knew that, then the imitation would keep their guard up for who-knew-how-long.

No. Letting the imitation think that he didn't understand what was happening was the best option, at least for the time being. Barclay decided that he would put duct tape over the cracks between the floor and his bedroom door before going to bed that night, just to be safe, until he could find the imposter. Until then, he would simply have to keep his eyes open and watch over his shoulders. Barclay knew that he was human. The question, though, was just who in the camp _wasn't?_

* * *

 **DAY 06**

* * *

Stepping outside in the snow for an early morning walk to clear his mind, Barclay slowly made several laps around the station. On his fifth lap, during which he had pretty much created a solid trail in the snow, he saw an object in the distance. Stopping in his tracks, he squinted his eyes before realizing that it was a helicopter.

"Well, I didn't expect you guys this early," Barclay said quietly to himself as the Soviet helicopter slowly approached the station. Trudging through the snow, Barclay waved at the approaching helicopter to let the pilot know that he saw them. The sound of a door opening behind him drew his attention, and he turned around to see Dutton and Silva stepping outside. "Is that the Soviets?" Dutton asked as he and Silva walked up to Barclay.

"Yeah," Barclay replied. "It's not even past ten. They're kind of early, don't ya think?" Silva asked Barclay. Barclay responded by merely shrugging his shoulders. "Hey, don't leave the damn door open!" Crenna shouted as he walked outside, closing the door behind him. He was wearing his standard dark green winter coat and neck gator.

The four men watched as the helicopter drew closer before it began descending. The men held their gloved hands up to their faces as the rotor blades blew the snow up into the air near them, giving Dutton a mouthful of snow. Dutton turned around and spat out the snow as the Mil Mi-17 landed in the open space in front of the camp.

Barclay looked back at Dutton before returning his attention to the helicopter. Soon, several more men exited the station, including Hendry, as the helicopter's rotor blades slowly came to a stop. After a few more minutes, the pilot exited the cockpit of the helicopter.

The pilot slowly looked around at the Americans standing in front of him, before pulling his mouth cover down and smiling. "Hello!" he said with a friendly wave. "Hi there... uh, Boris," Barclay replied with a small wave of his own as he walked over to the pilot. "Who else did you bring with you?" Barclay asked him.

Boris shook his head. "Only me, myself, and I. Last night, after talking on radio, team leader, Pavlo, began acting... weird. I had to wake up early today, before him. I made sure to bring camera gear with me," Boris said. "Weird?" Barclay asked him. "He became very protective of the... specimens. He watches everyone who goes near the lab," Boris explained.

"Well, speaking of specimens, grab your camera gear and follow us inside," Barclay said. Boris nodded his head before entering the cockpit and grabbing the camera gear from the floor. He then jumped back outside and closed the cockpit door. "Okay. Where do we go?" Boris asked Barclay.

 **Inside The Infirmary...**

Boris stared with wide eyes and a mixture of awe and horror at the Reynolds-Childs Thing on the table. "That was once our assistant cook," Barclay said as he pointed to the portion that was Reynolds. Boris silently nodded his head before getting his camera ready. Standing nearby in the corner of the room, Connant watched the two men quietly. Standing in the doorway, Hendry also quietly observed the Soviet helicopter pilot as he took pictures of the Thing on the table. Carrington, Thorne, and Atkins were also in the room, observing Boris and continuing their research on various samples of the Thing.

"When did... it attack?" Boris asked Barclay after taking a few pictures from different positions around the table. "Early yesterday morning. Some time after midnight," Barclay replied, not entirely certain of exactly what time it had been when he'd heard the dogs barking. "Was this the body that you took from the ship?" Boris asked as he looked at the Childs portion of the Thing on the table.

"No. This was one of the corpses we found at Outpost Thirty-One," Barclay replied. "What did it look like when you found it?" Boris asked him. "It looked human. It was a man, named Childs. He... _it_ had been dressed in a parka and covered in frost-bite," Barclay explained. "So, what of the other bodies?" Boris asked him as he took pictures of the tendrils and arachnid limbs. "All but one of them was burnt, so I think they're dead. The only one that I'm concerned about at this point is the other intact body," Barclay said.

"Have you identified them?" Boris asked as he angled the camera to take more pictures of the split-open chest on the Childs portion of the Thing. "R.J. Macready. He was the helicopter pilot for Outpost Thirty-One. That's all I know so far," Barclay replied. "So... the other bodies are all burned. This means, that only bodies in good condition can pose a threat?" Boris asked him.

"Possibly. This one wasn't burned all the way through. Some of its cells are still alive in certain places. After you leave, we're going to burn it a bit more so that all of the cells in it are dead later," Barclay said.

"Now, wait a minute!" Carrington protested. "What?" Barclay asked him sharply. "We can't just destroy it completely, Bar. You said so yourself last night. We need to preserve this thing as evidence of what's happened these past couple weeks," Carrington said. "I just wanna make sure that it's completely dead, Carrington," Barclay replied. _Besides, when we find out who our current imposter is, we'll have another sample for you to go gaga over later. I don't need more than one of these things running around at a time,_ Barclay thought to himself.

Thirty minutes later, Boris finally used up the last bit of film in his camera. "I hope you brought spare film rolls with you," Thorne said. "Only one. I had to leave while there was still time," Boris said. "Still time? What does that mean?" Hendry asked him. Boris turned and explained the situation regarding Pavlo's paranoid behavior to him. "So, he's afraid that we might steal those specimens away from him," Hendry surmised. "Yes. Very much so," Boris said while nodding his head.

"Well, you can call him on the radio and let him know that we simply wanted to warn you guys about what these things are capable of," Barclay said. Boris turned to look at him with a surprised expression. "I can... use your... radio? You would let me do that?" Boris asked him.

"Yes. That way, you can speak to your team leader and tell him about what you've seen. Tell him that you've taken pictures. Tell him that you've seen the bodies and the evidence that we've collected so far," Barclay said. "Yes. Yes, that... I will do that," Boris said, nodding his head in agreement. "Um... I do not mean to be rude, but... may I use your latrine?" Boris asked Barclay.

Barclay looked at him blankly. "Sure," he replied nonchalantly, before he realized that letting the newcomer wander around unsupervised was not a bright idea. "Although, it might be best if I escort you there. We don't want Commander Hendry over there getting paranoid. After all... he isn't the biggest fan of the Soviet Union," Barclay said, causing Boris to glance over at Hendry.

"I won't put a leash on you. I just want to know where you are at all times," Hendry said with a smirk. "I am not a scientist, but I am not your enemy either, Commander Hendry," Boris said. "We'll see about that," Hendry said curtly. "Come on. Follow me," Barclay said as he led Boris out of the infirmary and through the hallways of Hawke Station.

* * *

 **Soviet Union Antarctic Research Facility Lazarev Station, An Hour Later...**

Mikhail, Lazarev Station's radio operator, took a sip of his hot chocolate as he read his Russian-translated copy of J.R.R. Tolkien's _The Hobbit_. He was about to wipe some of the liquid from his mustache when he heard the sound of the radio. Placing his book and mug down on an empty section of the table, he grabbed his headset and and microphone before speaking into the radio. " _Come in Lazarev Station. This is helicopter pilot Boris, calling Lazarev Station. Mikhail, do you hear me?_ " Boris asked over the radio in English.

"[Borya?]" Mikhail asked in Russian, having known Boris for several years prior to them being sent to Antarctica. " _Hello, Mikhail! Mikhail, I must request that we speak in English while using the American's radio. To reassure them that there is nothing to fear from us,_ " Boris said over the radio. Mikhail raised an eyebrow before shrugging his shoulders.

"Of course. After all, we Soviets are very _scary_. Are we not?" Mikhail replied jokingly, earning a chuckle from Boris over the radio. " _Indeed! Ha! But, let us save joking for later. Mikhail, I need for you to write down some notes. Can you do that?_ " Boris asked over the radio. "Yes. I can take notes for you," Mikhail said. He was the second-most fluent English speaker at Lazarev Station after Boris, and he was currently studying Spanish as well.

" _Good. I have seen and confirmed the existence of the life form which the Americans spoke to us about yesterday. One of their own has indeed been killed by it,_ " Boris said, causing Sanchez to pause as he wrote this down. "Was it one of the specimens found in the craft?" Mikhail asked him. " _No. It was a human corpse that had been located at the destroyed American research station called Outpost Thirty-One. The body had been found with only cold weather damage, while all other bodies found have been burned prior to being discovered,_ " Boris explained over the radio.

"And... the specimens that we brought back... are not burned," Mikhail said in realization. " _That is correct. We must keep watch over the intact bodies and be cautious. Please inform Pavlo that I will be returning later tonight with evidence, as I must develop that photographs that I have taken of the thing that attacked the Americans. Please tell everyone to be cautious until I return,_ " Boris requested. "I will do that. I will go find the others and I will bring them here later to speak with you and the Americans," Mikhail said.

" _How long do you wish to wait before we speak again?_ " Boris asked him. "We shall wait one hour," Mikhail replied, not noticing the figure standing behind him in the open doorway of the radio room. " _Yes. I will speak with you and the others again in one hour. Until then,_ " Boris said before ending the transmission. Mikhail took off his headset and set it on top of the radio box with a sigh before scooting back his chair and getting up.

* * *

 **Hawke Station, Over Ninety Minutes Later...**

Caldwell turned the knob to the left before twisting it to the right again. "Still nothing. I can't get through to them," Caldwell said in frustration. "Do you have the machine using the correct signal? Or frequency?" Boris asked him. "It's the exact channel and frequency that you had us use the first time," Caldwell replied as he pointed to the notepad that Boris had written on earlier.

"Maybe they're trying to tune into our frequency but they got the wrong one, and that's causing the problem?" Sanchez suggested. "It's possible," Caldwell said before resetting the radio. "Okay, let's wait a few minutes and give them a chance to call us," Caldwell said, just as Barclay entered the room. "So, what did your comrades say?" Barclay asked Boris.

"Nothing. We have not been able to contact them for over thirty minutes," Boris replied. Barclay furrowed his brows in consternation. "Did anything seem unusual when you contacted the station earlier?" Barclay asked Boris. "No. I did not ask for information on the station when I talked to Mikhail," Boris replied. "Who's Mikhail?" Barclay asked him. "The radio operator," Boris replied.

Barclay nodded his head in understanding. "Have the photos been developed yet?" he asked Boris. "Yes. They are in the dark room right now," Boris replied. "Go get them and keep them safe while we try to contact Lazarev Station," Barclay said, just before the radio came to life.

" _This is Lazarev Station! Mayday, mayday! This is Lazarev Station!_ " Mikhail's panicked voice spoke over the radio. "Mayday?" Barclay asked under his breath. " _We need help! We have a situation! We found something in the ice! We found something! Our team leader has_ -" The transmission ended abruptly.

Everyone stared at the radio, waiting for the transmission to pick up again. "Bart, get on that now!" Barclay ordered. Caldwell immediately attempted to establish contact with Lazarev Station again. "Come on, come on!" Caldwell muttered in urgency as he repeatedly transmitted to Lazarev Station over the next five minutes.

Soon, there was a loud pinging noise and a beep, before static overtook the radio. "Boris? Get those pictures of yours. We're heading over to Lazarev," Barclay said. "W-We?" Boris asked him. "I'm going with you over there. I'm gonna help you in the dark room, and then we're gonna get Atkins and prepare your helicopter for take off," Barclay said. "Sanchez, go get Doc and Van Wall. Make sure to let Hendry know what's going on," Barclay ordered.

"Wait, why do you need Van-" "Just do it!" Barclay barked at him. "Y-Yes sir!" Sanchez replied shakily before he ran out of the room. "Come on, Boris. Let's get to the dark room and then get your helicopter prepped," Barclay said. Boris nodded his head and followed him out of the room and into the hallway, passing by Silva.

* * *

 **Three Hours Later...**

"How long until we arrive?" Barclay asked Boris. "Just a few more minutes," Boris replied. Sitting in the cockpit next to Boris, Van Wall studied and familiarized himself with the controls of the Mil Mi-17 while Boris flew them towards the camp. Sitting in the back area, Atkins, Silva, Dutton, and Barclay all waited anxiously for the helicopter to arrive at their destination.

Barclay reached down to feel his holstered Colt M1911, while Atkins held his medical gear in a bag across his lap. Silva had his camera with him, and Dutton had a box of tools on the floor in front of him. Looking out the window, Barclay saw only the white expanse of Antarctica, which, in conjunction with how long their flight to another population center was taking, reminded him of just how isolated he and everyone else on the continent were. Looking back down, Barclay tapped his bag of survival gear with his boot.

"We'll be landing in... oh shit," Boris swore in English as they approached Lazarev Station. "We're going to be landing in shit?" Dutton asked jokingly. Barclay, with a feeling of dread growing inside of him, turned to glare at Dutton for his remark.

Meanwhile, in the cockpit, Boris and Van Wall both looked ahead at the fire and smoke that were consuming various portions of Lazarev Station. Boris began circling the camp as he looked for a better spot to set down, allowing the others in the back a chance to look down and see the destruction. "Jesus Christ," Dutton muttered. "Doc, why does this shit look familiar?" Barclay asked Atkins. "We both know the answer to that," Atkins replied.

The helicopter soon began to set down near the front of the station, in a large space between a bulldozer and a snowcat. "We are landing! Please remain seated," Boris yelled back to the passengers. After the rotor blades eventually came to a stop, the six men stepped out of the helicopter, with Boris in the lead as he walked forward, and Barclay stepping right behind him, keeping his hand on his gun holster.

Fire and smoke were billowing from the windows of the station's rec room, while a tool shed outside was demolished, having been plowed into by a snowcat. As the men walked away from the helicopter, Barclay saw something sticking out of a window. "Wait, is that a-gun! Get down!" Barclay shouted, just as the rifleman opened fire at the group. Everyone scattered and ran over behind the helicopter, except Dutton, who ran over behind a stack of fuel drums nearby, and Silva and Van Wall, who both ran over behind the bulldozer. Van Wall pulled out his Browning High Powered before peering out past the bulldozer's front. He quickly tucked himself back behind it as the snow in front of him erupted from another gun shot.

The gunman fired three more rounds before shouting at the group in Russian. "[Get back! Get away! Get away from here, you idiots! Don't come closer!]" the gunmen yelled at them. Only Boris understood what he was saying. "Andriy!? Andriy!" Boris called out from his spot behind the cockpit. he was crouching next to Barclay, who had already pulled out his M1911 and had turned off the safety. "My gun is live and loaded, Boris. Tell him to stand down and explain the situation," Barclay said.

Boris looked back at Barclay and nodded his head. "I will try," he said before scooting over just a few inches and peeking out under the helicopter. "[Andriy! Please, speak to me! What has happened here!? Where are the others!?]" Boris called out in Russian. "[They're gone! Pavlo, Dimitri, Aleksey! They were all turned into those _Things!_ ]" Andriy cried out.

Boris turned to look at Barclay. "Well? What did he say?" Barclay asked him. Atkins was right behind him and looked at the man questioningly. "He said that... you were right. Those things were not dead," Boris said. "That can't be _everything_ that he said," Barclay retorted. "He says that Palvo, Dimitri, and Aleksey were all turned into Things," Boris relayed. "How many people are part of the station's crew?" Barclay asked him.

"There are ten of us," Boris replied. "So, three of your guys are already down. You're with us, and there's him, so there must be five others left. Did he say what happened to them or if they're still alive?" Barclay asked him. Boris bit down on his lower lip before peeking over at the window where Andriy had retracted his gun, most likely to reload it. "[Andriy! Who else is alive!? Who is hurt!?]" Boris called out.

"[No one leaves here! No one gets in! It is the only way to contain this monster!]" Andriy exclaimed in response. Boris looked back at Barclay. "He would not tell me who else is alive. He only says that he cannot let anyone leave," Boris relayed. Barclay mulled over his words. "Quarantine," Barclay muttered in realization. "You mean he'll let his comrades die just to keep this thing contained!?" Atkins asked him.

Boris furrowed his brows as he thought about Atkins' question. "I-I do not know," he said before turning peek out at the window. Andriy was once again aiming his rifle out of the window. "[Andriy! These are Americans I have brought with me! Please, let them help!]" Boris shouted. "[Take them back! Take them back before it is too late! If you come inside, I cannot let you leave this place! Save yourselves and get away from here!]" Andriy shouted again.

"He refuses to let anyone leave. He will not let us inside to help the injured either," Boris relayed. "This is getting us _nowhere_ ," Barclay muttered in frustration. "Boris, do you have a weapon?" Barclay asked him as he turned off the safety for his M1911. Boris looked at the man incredulously. "You expect me to kill my comrade?" Boris asked him in horror.

"I expect you to defend yourself," Barclay said as he looked Boris in the eyes. "I... I have a Tee-Tee Thirty-Three service pistol in one of the compartments inside the cockpit. No one knows that it is there but me," Boris confessed. "Can you get to it without him seeing you?" Barclay asked him. "If he sees me getting inside, he will shoot when he realizes that I do not intend to start up the machine," Boris said. "Then we'll get inside the helicopter, and you'll drop me onto the roof. I'll get inside and disarm him," Barclay said.

"You are suicidal. Andriy has military training. And that is no hunting rifle that he is using, Captain Barclay. That is an AEK Nine-Seven-One," Boris said. "Is that a military rifle?" Barclay asked him. "A very recent one. It was produced only a few years ago," Boris replied. "Listen, I need you to get me inside. Get me onto the roof, or on the other side of the building; someplace that I can find an unguarded entrance," Barclay said. "If he realizes what we are doing..." Boris trailed off, not wanting to finish his sentence.

Barclay slowly crouch-walked around Boris, checking over the side of the cockpit, before he saw the Andriy had removed his gun from the window again. Squinting his eyes, Barclay tried to get a better look, before he realized that Andriy was nowhere to be seen. "He's not there anymore," Barclay said to Boris and the others. "Do you think he's coming out here? Will he shoot us if we don't leave?" Atkins asked.

"I won't let him shoot you, Doc. I won't give him the chance," Barclay said firmly. "Boris, now's your chance. Get that pistol out of the cockpit," Barclay said before he looked over at one of the steps leading up to a door. He glanced back over at the window, checking to see if Andriy had returned to his spot. The man was still missing.

He nodded his head at Boris, signalling the man to get into the cockpit and retrieve his gun. Boris quickly crawled into the cockpit and opened a small compartment between the pilot and co-pilot seats, retrieving his gun and quickly reassembling it and inserting his ammunition. "I only have two magazines," Boris said as he grabbed the second magazine and stowed it in his jacket.

"Hopefully, you won't need to use either one. Now, come on," Barclay said as he motioned for the others to follow him over to the steps. He quickly grabbed the handle and pushed, opening the door with surprising ease. Stepping inside the station, Barclay saw that there was a knife on the floor, along with smoke in the air. He quickly went over to one of the windows and opened it, before ducking down.

"Everyone stay low and follow me," Barclay said quietly. The others nodded their heads as Barclay crawled forward along the floor of the hallway, listening for any sound to indicate Andriy's presence. Stopping at a corner, Barclay peeked around and saw a small fire in the middle of the hallway, along with an axe in an opened door. He saw a pair of boots sticking out of the doorway, and the way that they were pointing up indicated that they were attached to someone.

Quickly crouch-walking over to the open doorway, Barclay saw the corpse on the floor. " _Vassili!_ " Boris hissed in surprise when he saw the dead body of the geologist on the floor of the rec room. Barclay quickly made his way over to the man's body, looking at the bullet wound in the man's forehead, before lifting his head to see the back of it blown out. Barclay rested Vassili's head back down on the blood-stained floor.

"There's nothing we can do for him," Barclay said to Boris and Atkins. "Let's keep moving," Barclay said, stopping as he neared the next exit to the room. Peeking outside, he saw that the hallway was relatively free of damage, so he carefully crouch-walked over to the next corner and peered over the side, seeing smoke coming out of a room down the hallway. "Which room is that?" Barclay asked Boris.

"That is the kitchen," Boris said. "Stay behind me," Barclay said as he kept his M1911 pointed at the floor. He slowly made his way through the hall, hugging the wall before peering inside the kitchen to see a still-burning corpse on the floor. Everyone made their way inside, staying behind tables as they gathered around the burning corpse. "Any idea who this is-err, was?" Barclay asked Boris. "I do not know," Boris said, horrified at the sight. Barclay looked down at the floor and saw two 5.45x39mm casings near the legs of a table.

Looking over at the other end of the kitchen, Barclay then saw something new. It was another burnt corpse, but this one was different. It looked like three corpses fused together in some unholy union, with burnt tendrils sprawled out and the smell of burnt flesh and dog fur hanging in the air around it. "Silva," Barclay whispered. Silva crawled over to Barclay's side and looked at the burnt corpse on the floor with awe and horror.

"Jesus Christ," Silva muttered as he realized what he was looking at. The corpse was made of one dog and two humans, all three of which had been fused together as part of some gruesome transformation. The dog neck had been elongated, with the head malformed and open in a silent snarl. The first human head had its mouth opened in twisted agony, while the second one was partially opened and split apart, revealing row upon row of teeth where they did not belong, along with some kind of long tentacle or tongue.

"Don't take any pictures just yet. We don't want to alert... um... what's your comrade's name again?" Barclay started before asking Boris for help. "Andriy. He is the station's head mechanical engineer," Boris replied. "Right. Andriy. We don't want to alert Andriy to our position," Barclay said as he turned back to face Silva.

"Got it," Silva whispered in response. Barclay silently moved forward again, crawling past the burnt fusion corpse as he made his way over to the other kitchen entrance, which took them into the dining room. The men quietly slipped through the dining room and back out into the hallway, glancing back at the open doorway to the kitchen. Carefully making their way to the next corner, Barclay peered over the side and saw the destroyed portion of another room, with the door blown apart and in splinters on the floor.

Peering over to the other side, Barclay saw an open doorway for the radio room, with a corpse lying on the floor with an axe buried in them. Checking the other path, Barclay quickly made his way over to the radio room and saw the dead operator on the floor. "Mikhail," Boris whispered as he caught up with Barclay. He looked around and saw an open book on the floor and a chipped coffee mug lying on its side nearby, with stains on the table and floor.

The radio equipment was hacked apart and smashed to pieces, with only one cabinet remaining intact. "Deja fucking vu," Barclay muttered to himself, just before a shot rang out. Everyone turned to face the open doorway, listening as three more shots rang out, along with shouting.

"I hear two different voices," Atkins said. "Andriy and... Kyrylo?" Boris asked. "Who?" Barclay asked him. "Our cook. He is still alive," Boris said as he heard Kyrylo shouting as he ran through the halls, followed by more shouting from Andriy and another set of gun shots. "We have to help him," Boris said as he got up and made his way through the hallway, quickly accompanied by Barclay, who forced him over to the wall.

"Now, wait just a minute, Boris! Don't go runninh headlong into danger like that," Barclay said as he looked the pilot in the eyes. The two men were interrupted by the sound of running and panting, causing them to turn their heads as Kyrylo turned a corner before tripping on his shoes.

The cook looked up at them with terror and relief, before heavy foot steps followed as Andriy turned the corner. "[No one! No one leaves! It cannot be allowed to spread!]" Andriy shouted before Barclay stepped away from Boris and raised his pistol at him. "Freeze!" Barclay shouted at the man. Andriy growled at him. "[I gave you the chance to leave! You should have taken it! Now _none of us_ leave here alive!]" Andriy shouted angrily at him before aiming his rifle at the terrified Kyrylo.

"Don't!" Barclay shouted just as Andriy squeezed the trigger and fired at Kyrylo, hitting the man in the back with a three-round burst. "Shit!" Barclay swore before he fired his gun at Andriy, hitting the man in the chest and sending him stumbling back. Andriy fired his rifle again, hitting Boris in the chest as Barclay tripped and fell backwards on a piece of debris on the floor.

Boris leaned back and slumped against the wall as he watched Andriy fall back onto the floor, gasping in his final breaths. "An...driy," Boris whispered painfully as he slumped down onto the floor, his breathing becoming labored. "Boris? Boris!" Barclay yelled as he pushed himself off of the floor and crawled over to the dying man. "Doc! Doc, get over here!" Barclay called out.

Atkins and Silva both exited the radio room, having used it as cover when they saw Andriy enter the hallway with his rifle. "Dammit, which one's more severe?" Atkins asked as he opened his bag of medical gear. "Save the pilot," Barclay said after looking down at Kyrylo, whose blood was beginning to pool under his body.

"Just hang on," Barclay said to Boris. "The fuel drums... should be full. Take one with you," Boris said tiredly. He began wheezing as he found breathing difficult. "Find the others... save them," Boris said as Atkins opened his jacket and shirt to see the blood stains. "Dammit. He's not going to make it either," Atkins said somberly.

Soon, Boris's breathing stopped, and he stared straight ahead with a vacant expression on his face. Barclay put his gloved-hand over the man's face to close his eyes. "Silva? Start taking pictures. We need to document what happened here. We can't afford an international incident if we don't provide proof that we weren't responsible," Barclay said.

"Hold on. Are you saying that we'll get blamed for this!?" Silva asked him. " _YES,_ Silva! Now, start taking pictures, dammit!" Barclay ordered him. "Y-Yes, Bar!" Silva squeaked out in response to the man's temper. "This is just what we fucking need right now," Barclay growled sarcastically as he looked around at the rest of the destroyed interior of the Soviet research station.

"Van Wall!" Barclay called out. The pilot quickly made his way through the hallway and carefully stepped over the various pieces of debris on the floor. "Yeah, Bar?" the pilot asked Barclay. "Did you pay any attention when Boris was flying that helicopter today?" Barclay asked him. "Yes," Van Wall replied. "Good, because you've seen the radio room, so you know that we can't call for help. We're gonna search for more possible survivors, and then we're going to make sure that any imitation we find is completely destroyed. I'm gonna search for the casings from my gun," Barclay said as he knelt down on the ground and began looking the ejected casings of his M1911's rounds.

"Hopefully, the generator to this place is still working, because if we don't finish up soon, we'll have to stay overnight," Barclay said as he picked up the casings before putting them in his jacket pockets. "But, Van Wall? Keep that Browning out with you, just in case," Barclay said as he noticed Van Wall's pistol. "I understand," Van Wall said as he nodded his head.

A few minutes later, the group continued moving through the rest of the station, searching for signs of life. Eventually, they came across the infirmary, where they found a corpse slumped against the wall, with a flamethrower in their hands, and a burned corpse on a table in the infirmary. The body looked partially human, but the left arm was split open with the hand forming sharp claws, and the neck and head were elongated with fangs and arachnid legs protruding from the lower abdomen. The entire body was scorched, while the corpse on the floor had a bloody hole in his chest.

Moving on, the men entered the lab, where they found the one mummified alien corpse still intact, while the other corpse was lying in the corner, burnt with tendrils and its body partially transformed into something else. There was also a discarded revolver on the floor, along with shell casings nearby. After searching through the rest of the facility, the men of Hawke Station concluded that there were no more bodies to be found. All ten of the Soviet research crew members were dead.

After another hour had passed, Silva used the last bit of film in his camera. "That's all she wrote," Silva said as he looked over at Barclay. "So, what do we do now?" Atkins asked. "We have to burn the bodies," Barclay said. "All of them?" Dutton asked him. "Yes. We know that Boris is probably human, but we can't take that risk with the others. We have to be certain that none of them can come back," Barclay said.

"That'll take us a while to take care of," Silva said. "Then we'd best get started," Barclay said solemnly. Over the next hour, the men of Hawke Station gathered up the bodies throughout Lazarev Station and dragged them outside before making sure that they were properly incinerated, burning the other charred corpses as well for insurance. "Van Wall, get that helicopter ready," Barclay said after he finished burning the last corpse.

Van Wall nodded his head and quickly made his way over the Mil Mi-17. "We're gonna do one last sweep of the station before we leave. Make sure that we didn't miss anything," Barclay said as he grabbed the Soviet flamethrower and hefted it onto his back. "Silva, you stay here with Van Wall. Atkins and Dutton, come with me," Barclay said before he began making one last trek through the partially destroyed Soviet camp.

* * *

Author's Notes: And that's chapter seven. The next chapter features our cast reuniting back at Hawke Station before tensions begin to rise as the implications of the shredded underwear become clear after someone plays Macready's audio log again.

Be sure to let me know what you guys think in your reviews.


	8. Fear, Paranoia, And Sabotage

**THE THING II: Hawke Station**

Disclaimer: John Carpenter's THE THING is property of Universal.

* * *

 **Chapter 08: From Russia With Fear / Paranoia / Sabotage  
**

* * *

Date: Winter of 1982 - 1983

 **United States Antarctic Research Outpost "Hawke Station"**

Ralsen looked out the window of the recreation room once again. "It's already dark outside and they haven't come back yet," he said worriedly. Crenna and Stiles both looked up from their game of checkers at him with equally worried expressions on their faces. A minute later, Walters walked into the rec room, wearing a mask over his mouth and disposable gloves on his hands.

"Walters, what the hell is with that getup?" Ralsen asked the botanist. "I ain't taking any risks to my plants," Walters said through the mask. "Walters, we've been over this before! If there's any chance of something being airborne, you've already been exposed to it and so have your plants. Now take that thing off and stop being paranoid," Ralsen said in annoyance. "Make me," Walters spat at him.

Ralsen narrowed his eyes at Walters. "Don't start with me, Walters," Ralsen warned before he turned his head to look outside at the darkened sky again. Standing over at the pool table, Pomroy and Lambert glanced over at the assistant mechanic empathetically before returning to their game of pool. Harvey, to his credit, was simply trying to read a book while waiting for any news from Caldwell or Sanchez from the radio room.

"Well, it _is_ a long flight," Harvey said before he flipped a page in his book. "Yeah, but shouldn't they have at least tried contacting us with the Soviets' radio?" Ralsen asked in response. "Not if the radio equipment isn't working," Harvey replied, causing Ralsen to frown as he continued scanning the darkened sky outside.

He squinted his eyes as he saw some lights in the distance. "Hey... hey, guys! Someone's coming! I think it's them!" Ralsen shouted, catching everyone's attention. Stiles and Crenna stood up and made their way over to the windows, looking out at the approaching lights in the sky. "Come on, let's go make sure," Crenna said before he ran out of the rec room, with Stiles and Ralsen close behind. Walters merely stayed where he was.

Meanwhile, outside, the Soviet Mil Mi-17 helicopter slowly set down in a space not too far from the left front entrance of the station, parking only a few meters away from a tarp-covered bulldozer and a snowcat. Sitting inside the cockpit, Van Wall sighed in relief before he began shutting down the helicopter and turning off the rotor blades. "Everybody wait a few more minutes," he called back to the four others in the back.

Outside, several men had grabbed their winter coats and rushed out to greet the returning party. In the second-floor office of the station, Hendry looked out his window and frowned at the sight of the Soviet helicopter as several of the men waited for the rotor blades to die down before approaching it. He quickly grabbed his jacket and made his way downstairs before exiting the building and walking over to greet the others.

Barclay was the first one out of the helicopter, looking at everyone with a tired expression on his face. "So, how many Soviets are staying with us tonight?" Hendry asked him snidely with a frown. Barclay glanced at Hendry with a sigh. "None of them. They're all dead," Barclay said in a defeated tone. Hendry's tone and expression each changed to that of concern. "Bar, what happened?" Hendry asked him as the others exited the helicopter.

"Same thing as Outpost Thirty-One and the Norwegian camp," Barclay said as he brushed past Hendry and made his way inside the station. Hendry quickly followed him, while Stiles and Crenna helped Atkins and the others secure the helicopter. "Bar, where are you going?" Hendry asked as he caught up with Barclay.

"Have Connant and the others figured out if MacReady's body is still human?" Barclay asked as he stormed through the hallway. "I don't know! Why?" Hendry asked him. "I want that body burned by tomorrow morning if they can't find a way to tell if he's human by then. I'm not taking that risk again. Not after what happened today," Barclay replied.

"Allison, talk to me! What the hell happened over there?" Hendry asked as they neared the storage room. Barclay turned around and leaned back against the wall as he took off his face and head coverings. "That thing from the ship _wasn't dead_. It attacked the Russians. At least three men and a dog were infected by that Thing. One of the surviving Russians took a gun and started hunting down his fellow survivors, trying to make sure that there was no chance of that thing escaping the station. He was too far gone to care that the others were still human by that point," Barclay explained.

"That man saw his comrades turn into monsters, and he went insane, killing everyone else in an attempt to contain that Thing. He killed two other men in front of us; one of them was the pilot. I'm not letting that happen here," Barclay said resolutely. "If Connant and the others can't find a way to prove that MacReady's body is still human by morning... I'm taking it outside and burning it," Barclay said.

Hendry slowly nodded his head. "This... is _my_ station. These are _my_ men. And this... is _my planet_ ," Barclay seethed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm very tired and I would like to go to the bathroom, get a shower, and grab a bite to eat before retiring for the night, Commander. I've had a very long day," Barclay said before he walked away from Hendry and marched down the hallway. Hendry watched Barclay walk away with a solemn look on his face.

* * *

 **Day 07**

* * *

Barclay woke up groggily, silently grateful that he had been able to get any amount of sleep at all. As he got up out of his bed, he looked over at the duct tape that he had placed around the door frame. It was all still intact, with no signs of tampering. Grabbing his clothes from the top of his dresser, he started getting dressed before removing the tape from the door frame. When he was done removing the tape, he quickly finished getting dressed and grabbed his jacket and cap before exiting the dorm, heading straight for the bathroom.

 **The Infirmary...**

Hearing foot steps, Arnold Thorne looked up from his notes to see Barclay standing in the doorway. "Have you fellas found anything yet?" Barclay asked him. "Well, we think that we might be able to use a blood serum test," Thorne replied. Barclay nodded his head. "Okay. What does that entail?" he asked in response.

Connant turned around from where he was sitting and looked over at Barclay. "It means that we mix MacReady's blood with the blood of someone else. More specifically, we mix his blood with uncontaminated blood that we have in storage," Connant said. "Alright... so, if there's some kind of reaction between his blood cells and the stored blood cells, then we'll know if he's an imitation, right?" Barclay asked.

"That's correct," Connant said. "Does MacReady's blood need to be thawed for this to work?" Barclay asked. "It would be best if it were, but it would also be best if his blood were still _fresh_ ," Connant added. "His body's been zipped up in a bag for a few days now. If we're gonna test his blood, then we need to do it soon," Thorne added. "Then do it. Get the blood from storage and get some of MacReady's blood from his corpse. Don't waste time," Barclay said tersely.

"Yes, Bar," Thorne said. "I'll go get Ralsen and Lambert to help out," Barclay said before leaving the infirmary. Barclay quickly made his way through the hallway and over to the front left exit before stepping outside, where he saw Ralsen, Lambert, Dutton, Van Wall, and Harvey all gathered around the Soviet Mil Mi-17 helicopter as they tried covering it up with a tarp. "It isn't gonna work," Dutton said as the tarp failed to cover half of the vehicle.

"What are you guys doing?" Barclay asked as he trudged up to them through the snow. "Hey, Grizzly, what's up?" Dutton asked him. "I need Ralsen and Lambert inside," Barclay said. "What for?" Ralsen asked him. "I need you guys to get MacReady's body out of the main storage room and over to the infirmary. I'm having Connant and the others perform a little test on it," Barclay replied.

"Bar, I'm getting tired of going back and forth to the storage rooms. Day in and day out, all I ever do is move stuff around in there. It's getting annoying," Ralsen complained. "I don't care if it annoys you. I need it done," Barclay said. "Hard ass," Ralsen muttered. "I heard that," Barclay said. "Good," Ralsen spat.

"When do we need to get started?" Lambert asked tiredly. "I'd like it if you guys could get started about... now," Barclay said. Ralsen rolled his eyes as he trudged past Barclay, with Lambert close behind. "You know, I don't think he enjoys the company of dead people," Harvey joked. "And both of you stay together!" Barclay shouted at them. Ralsen responded by flipping him off as he entered the station.

"So... what kind of test are Doc and the others gonna perform on a dead body?" Van Wall asked Barclay. "A blood test. We're gonna find out if MacReady is still human," Barclay replied. "You somehow think that he isn't?" Harvey asked him. "I just wanna be sure," Barclay replied. "Okay. Uh... just so you know, as cool as this bird here is, when someone comes along and sees that we have a Soviet helicopter at our base, they're gonna ask questions," Harvey pointed out.

"I know. Luckily, Silva's camera captured our answers," Barclay replied. "You know, with how much time Silva spends alone in that dark room, I'm surprised he isn't crying in pain every time he sets foot in the light," Van Wall said jokingly. Something about Van Wall's words made Barclay feel uneasy. _Alone in the dark room..._

Barclay quickly turned around and headed inside the station. "Hey, Bar? Where are you going?" Van Wall asked him. "To see how Silva's pictures have developed," Barclay shouted back in response before he opened the door to the entrance and closed it behind him. He quickly stomped his boots to get the snow off before entering the front hallway.

As Barclay walked through the hall, he made a brief stop at the kitchen, seeing Kinner morosely working on chopping some vegetables. "Hey, Kinner, you holding up okay?" Barclay asked him. "Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm... I'm fine," Kinner said with a depressed sigh.

Barclay looked down at the chopped up vegetables on the cutting board, seeing that they were now almost unrecognizable. "Uh, Kinner? Just what exactly were you making there?" he asked the cook. "I don't even remember," Kinner replied before holding his head in his hands. "Maybe... maybe you should go take a break," Barclay said. "Yeah... that's probably a good idea," Kinner said before he gathered up the ruined vegetables and walked over to the nearest trash can, opening the lid before depositing them inside.

"What the hell?" Kinner asked as he reached down into the trash can and retrieved a pair of shredded underwear. Barclay's eyes widened as he began processing the implications of the sight. "Kinner, are those the same underwear as the ones I found the other day?" Barclay asked him. "No, these are blue in color. The other ones were... grey, right?" Kinner replied.

"Kinner... don't get rid of those. Put them in a bag and give them to me," Barclay said. "You _want these?_ " Kinner asked him skeptically. "Y-Yes, Kinner. I'm going to call a meeting later today to discuss this... _laundry problem_ with everyone," Barclay said as he exited the room and made resumed his trek through the hallway, heading for the dark room.

After reaching the door, Barclay knocked on it. "Silva! Are you in there!?" Barclay shouted. The door soon spun around as Silva exited the room, looking at Barclay curiously. "Can I... help you, Bar?" Silva asked him with a raised eyebrow. "Silva, how long have you been in that room today?" Barclay asked him. "I've been in here for over an hour now. Why? Do you need the pictures already?" Silva responded.

"Silva, I need you to start checking in over the intercom with me at regular intervals, between twenty to thirty minutes each when you're in here," Barclay said. "Um, why?" Silva asked him. "Someone... someone in this camp isn't who they appear to be," Barclay said. After a few seconds, Silva caught onto Barclay's meaning. "But we destroyed that thing after it attacked Reynolds. It's been in the infirmary since then," Silva said.

"Reynolds may not have been its first victim," Barclay countered. "How do you know?" Silva asked in response. "Those shredded drawers I found the other day. Remember the tape?" Barclay explained. "It... rips through its victim's clothes," Silva recalled. "Yeah, and Kinner just found a second pair a little while ago," Barclay said. "So now there are two imitations running around?" Silva asked him.

"Unfortunately. One pair of shredded underwear could have just been a coincidence, but not two pairs. How long until those pictures are ready?" Barclay asked. "About another hour," Silva replied. "There's an intercom switch in there, right?" Barclay asked him. "Yeah," Silva said. "Does it work?" Barclay asked him. "I think so," Silva replied. "Test it. Make sure that it works, and find a way to contact me or Hendry after twenty to thirty minutes, regardless of what you're doing. Is that clear?" Barclay said.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's clear," Silva replied, nodding his head. "I'm gonna go find Ralsen and Lambert, and then we're gonna have Connant perform a little blood test on MacReady's corpse," Barclay said. "Why?" Silva asked him. "Because his body wasn't burned like the others. It still poses a potential threat if it's an imitation," Barclay explained.

"Right. Well, all I really need to do is just hang up the pictures and let them dry. I can be out of the dark room in ten minutes," Silva said. "Good. Make sure to lock the door when you leave, and head straight for the infirmary," Barclay said. "Got it," Silva said before turning around and re-entering the dark room.

Quickly making his way over to the other side of the station, Barclay walked over to the entrance of the storage room and saw Ralsen with his coat open. "Ralsen, Lamb... where's Lambert?" Barclay asked. "He had to take a piss," Ralsen replied as he unzipped the body-bag that held the burnt corpse of Clarke. "Uh, you guys didn't find out who these two burned guys were at any point, did ya?" Ralsen asked Barclay.

"No," Barclay replied. "But that's not really important right now, Ralsen. I told you and Lambert to stick together while you're in here. I don't want anyone _alone_ with that corpse," Barclay said sternly. "Bar, what exactly is your problem?" Ralsen asked as he turned around and glared at Barclay. "This whole time, you've been acting anal retentive about... well, just about everything. Are you secretly a woman on her period or something?" Ralsen asked him.

"Ralsen, remember what I said about the corpse not being burned?" Barclay asked him. "Yeah, yeah. But, look. If this guy were an imitation, then why keep playing dead like this? I mean, why didn't it just get up when the other one did? They were both thawed out around the same time," Ralsen said. Barclay actually took a moment to consider Ralsen's words.

"That _is_ a good observation, but this thing is _very good_ at playing possum," Barclay said. "So then why not just burn the damn thing already and get it over with?" Ralsen asked him in exasperation. "Because I want to be sure," Barclay replied. "Be sure of _what!?_ For Christ's sake, Bar! If you think the corpse is a monster from another world, then just take it outside and fucking burn it already!" Ralsen retorted.

"Ralsen," Barclay started, only to be interrupted. "No! I am _sick_ and _tired_ of constantly spending time in a room filled with _dead people_ ," Ralsen whined. "I'm tired of it! I'm tired of the smell of burned corpses, and I'm tired of constantly checking to see if those bags are moving on their own, and I'm tired of handling dead bodies!" Ralsen continued, causing Barclay to step back and give him some space. "Dammit, Bar! I'm a mechanical engineer, not a mortician!" Ralsen finished angrily.

"Are you finished?" Barclay asked him. "Yeah, I... I'm just sick of being forced to do this body moving shit over and over again," Ralsen said tiredly as he began winding down from his excited rant. "Next time I need this done, I'll have Dutton work with Lambert instead of you, okay?" Barclay offered. Ralsen looked at him questioningly, before nodding his head in agreement. "Yeah. Thanks," Ralsen said with a sigh.

"By the way... how long have you been alone in this room so far?" Barclay asked him. "You mean today, or over the past week? And is that before or _after_ we started handling the dead bodies?" Ralsen asked in response. "After the dead bodies," Barclay clarified. "Well, I've only been alone for about twenty minutes at a time in here whenever Lambert has to go get something," Ralsen replied as he walked over to the other body bags, checking each one to find out which bag had MacReady in it.

"Ralsen... didn't I already have you and Lambert separate MacReady's body from the other ones? Why are you checking the bags?" Barclay asked him. "Because I'm just passing the time until Lambert comes back from the bathroom," Ralsen said. "Do we have a stretcher in here to move the body?" Barclay asked as he looked around the room. "Yeah, it's folded up in that corner over there. The other three are back in the lab and the infirmary," Ralsen replied, pointing his finger over at the corner behind Barclay.

Barclay turned around and looked at the folded up stretcher standing in the corner. Barclay walked over to the stretcher and pulled it out, wheeling it over to Ralsen. "Come on, let's get the body moved. We'll go find Lambert later," Barclay said, keeping his eyes on Ralsen. "Sure, whatever," Ralsen said as he knelt down to help Barclay left MacReady's body off of the floor and onto the stretcher.

* * *

Atkins carefully drew some blood from MacReady's arm before emptying it into the petri dish on the table. There was one other petri dish, filled with uncontaminated blood, sitting on the counter. Taking a clean syringe, Atkins collected some of the blood, placing the MacReady petri dish under the microscope before injecting the uncontaminated blood into the dish.

Atkins looked through the microscope at the blood cells, watching them mingle about in the petri dish. "Well, MacReady's blood cells appear to be normal. Dead, but otherwise normal," Atkins said out loud as he saw the inert blood cells simply float around with the other blood cells. "There's no reaction. No absorption, no assimilation. The man is human," Atkins said anti-climactically. "Do you still want to burn the corpse, though, just to be safe?" Atkins asked as he lifted his head away from the microscope and looked over at Barclay.

"Just keep watching a little longer. I want to be absolutely certain," Barclay responded, causing Atkins to sigh. "Well, come over and see for yourself," Atkins said, ushering Barclay over to the microscope.

Barclay walked over and Atkins stepped away, giving Barclay a chance to look at the blood cells mingling in the petri dish. "See how MacReady's cells are dead? There's no life to them at all. The only reason they aren't in worse shape is because the cold preserved them for a while," Atkins said. "Yeah," Barclay said before he turned away to look over at MacReady's corpse.

Barclay then looked over at the Thing on the table thoughtfully. "Doc, take some samples of that thing's cells and mix them in the dish. I wanna see what this thing is really capable of," Barclay ordered. Atkins looked over at the Reynolds-Childs Thing and nodded his head in affirmation.

A couple minutes later, Atkins was injecting cells from inside the Thing into the petri dish. Barclay watched in fascination as the Thing cells began attacking and assimilating the blood cells, both MacReady's blood and the stored blood. Barclay stepped away from the microscope to look back over at the Thing. _This thing even imitates DEAD cells? Son of a bitch_ , Barclay thought to himself.

"Doc, I want you and the others to get everything in here collected, and I want all of those notes and calculations that you guys performed the other day to be ready in a few hours. I'm calling a meeting in the rec room, and _everyone_ is attending," Barclay said firmly. His tone brook no room for argument. "Okay," Atkins said. Connant and Thorne both nodded their heads in agreement from where they were standing. "Carrington?" Barclay asked as he turned to look at the man.

Carrington was looking closely at the Thing remains. "Stewart, did you hear what I just said?" Barclay asked him. Carrington looked up at Barclay and nodded his head. "Yes, I heard you," Carrington replied. "Good. After we're done with the meeting, I want everyone to do an inventory of their laundry. Kinner found a pair of shredded underwear today in the kitchen trash can. You all know what this means," Barclay said.

"Uh... I don't," Ralsen said from the corner where he was standing. "Didn't you pay _any_ attention to that tape recording the other night?" Barclay asked him. "Not really," Ralsen replied. "Dammit, Ralsen!" Barclay snapped. "What!? Look, we all thought that it was bullshit when we first heard it, okay? None of us have bothered to listen to it since then," Ralsen said defensively.

"Ralsen, get MacReady's corpse put back in the storage room. Leave it on the stretcher," Barclay said. "Aw, come on!" Ralsen protested. "Do it, Ralsen," Barclay said sternly. Ralsen huffed before walking over to the stretcher and zipping up the body bag. "Pain in the ass," Ralsen muttered as he began wheeling the stretcher out of the infirmary.

Barclay quickly walked out of the infirmary afterwards, heading for the kitchen. Meanwhile, Atkins and the others began compiling their notes. In their efforts to compile their data, however, they all neglected to notice that the keys to the little refrigerator storing the blood were still sitting on the counter.

* * *

 **The Recreation Room, Hours Later...**

Barclay watched as each member of the station's crew entered the rec room, with Stiles and Crenna having already been inside playing a game of checkers when Barclay had called the meeting. Atkins, Thorne, Connant, and Carrington had arrived first, with Silva, Walters, and Kinner arriving next. Following them were Harvey and Van Wall. Ralsen had arrived shortly before Dutton and Lambert, with Pomroy arriving next, and Sanchez and Caldwell following soon afterward. Hendry was the last person to arrive.

"Alright, what are we here for?" Hendry asked Barclay as he leaned against the wall next to the door frame. Barclay looked over at him briefly. "I've called this meeting here because of something very important," Barclay said as he scanned the room.

Reaching for the bag containing the shredded underwear, Barclay held it up in front of him for everyone to see. "See these? Kinner found these in the kitchen trash can today," Barclay said with a frown. "Now, I want to know who did it," he said. Everyone glanced around at each other in confusion. "First the shower room, and now the kitchen. At least two people in this room... are being very dishonest about themselves," Barclay said darkly.

"I also know, thanks to the efforts of our research team, that at least one or more of you... are not who you appear to be," Barclay said. Sanchez cleaned out his ear before looking quizzically at Barclay. "Uh, say that again, please?" Sanchez asked. "Someone in this camp isn't human," Barclay said. Dutton snorted. "You think that because someone doesn't handle their laundry properly, that means they aren't human?" Dutton asked him incredulously.

"No, Dutton. That _Thing_ rips through people's clothes when it takes them over. I'm pretty sure that you all listened to that tape recording," Barclay retorted with a glare. "Now, as some of us have come to realize, we don't know exactly how long that Thing was wandering the station before it attacked Reynolds the other day. It could have been an hour, maybe two hours. But the fact remains that no one knows _when_ it got up and started stalking the halls," Barclay said, scanning the room and looking at the faces of each person around him.

Realization soon began to dawn on the faces of several crew members, including Sanchez, Stiles, Crenna, Silva, and Ralsen. "We don't know when. We don't know how long. And it's become quite clear, however, that Reynolds was _not_ its first victim," Barclay said to the men around him. "I'll ask nicely. Will the real imitation please stand up?" Barclay asked as he looked around the room. Everyone glanced at the man standing or sitting next to him.

"I'm going to recommend that we all sleep in separate rooms for the time being," Barclay said firmly. "I don't care how much you like the room that you're in right now. I'm not giving this Thing a chance to take another person tonight. We all sleep in separate rooms, and we all put duct tape around the corners of our doors before hitting the hay," Barclay said authoritatively. "Any questions?" Barclay asked.

Pomroy raised his hand. "Yes?" Barclay asked. "What about the dogs?" Pomroy asked him. "What about them?" Barclay responded. "Well... could we use them to find out who's human or not? I mean, could they smell if someone's an imposter or not?" Pomroy asked. "Please, those animals bark at anyone who isn't you or Silva," Dutton said. "Yeah, and up until last week, they were still barking at Barclay whenever he came near them," Harvey chimed in.

"That's true," Hendry noted. "Yeah, and Bar? MacReady mentioned in the tape that he questioned their dog handler about when he'd put the Norwegian dog in the kennel. The dogs hadn't made any fuss around the imitation until it attacked them," Thorne said. "Yeah, that's right," Connant said. "If a dog imitation could spend a few hours alone with several other dogs before they even realized that it wasn't a dog, then what good would our own dogs be at finding out who among us humans is an imposter?" Connant asked out loud.

"Well, there goes that plan," Barclay said with a sigh, shaking his head in dismay. Pomroy lowered his hand and looked down at the floor. "Wait... what about that test you performed on the dead guy?" Ralsen asked. Barclay perked his head up and looked at Ralsen in surprise. "What test?" Dutton asked.

"Doc mixed blood from the dead guy with cold blood from the fridge. The guy's blood was as dead as he was, though," Ralsen explained. "How does that prove anything?" Stiles asked him. "Because if MacReady had been an imitation, his cells would have still been alive, and they would have reacted to the uncontaminated blood in the dish. This Thing plays possum with the patience of Job," Barclay explained.

 **Meanwhile, In The Infirmary**

Hidden under a thin layer of burnt flesh, a fully replicated human ear could be found within the Reynolds-Childs Thing on the table in the infirmary. Various sections of flesh throughout the body were slowly regenerating themselves under the burnt outer husk, and the still-intact internal organs and innards of the Thing were reshaping themselves. The fully formed ear, which had been intact for over 51 hours, was connected to a fully imitated brain, which was sending signals to every intact cell in the abomination's body to prepare for a desperate attempt at survival. Time was of the essence.

 **Back In The Recreation Room**

"So, all we have to do is draw a bit of each person's blood and mix it with uncontaminated blood," Barclay said. "How will we be able to tell if it works or not?" Walters asked. "When we look under the microscope, we'll be able to see how each person's blood cells react to the uncontaminated blood," Atkins explained confidently.

"Who's blood do we test first?" Stiles asked. "Mine and Hendry's," Barclay said. "Since I'm in charge, I need to make sure that you all can trust me. Proving myself human first should go a long way towards maintaining that trust," Barclay explained. "What about Hendry? Isn't he technically the station commander?" Walters asked. "Bar will go first," Hendry said firmly.

"So then how do we choose who goes next? There's twenty-I mean, nineteen of us here," Pomroy said. "We'll go in alphabetical order after Bar and Hendry are tested," Atkins said.

"So, are we doing this tonight, or are we waiting until tomorrow?" Lambert asked. "Tonight. The plan is already out in the open. Whoever's an imitation will try to sabotage the test if we wait until tomorrow," Barclay said, remembering MacReady's words from the tape. "Where do we perform this little test at?" Hendry asked. "The infirmary," Barclay said simply.

"I'll go get everything ready," Atkins said. "I'll go with you," Carrington said as he walked over to join Atkins. "You can get the petri dishes and syringes ready while I collect the blood," Atkins said before reaching down to his key ring, only to pat his pants. Looking down, Atkins frowned.

"What the-where are my keys?" Atkins asked himself. "Say what?" Barclay asked him, raising an eyebrow. "My keys. The keys to the fridge; I can't find 'em," Atkins said. "You had them earlier when we performed the test on MacReady," Thorne said.

Atkins held up a finger. "That's it! I must've left them on the counter," he said. "False alarm then. They're still back in the lab," Atkins said as he and Carrington walked out of the rec room. The two men then disappeared into the hallway. "I'm gonna go with them," Connant said as he followed after the other two men.

"I guess we'll just wait here until they have everything set up for us," Barclay said.

 **The Infirmary, A Few Minutes Later...**

As Atkins, Connant, and Carrington reached the doorway to the infirmary, they noticed that the lights had been turned off. "That's odd," Carrington noted. "Did you turn the lights off when you left?" Atkins asked him. Carrington had been the last person to leave the lab and infirmary area. "No. I left them turned on," Carrington replied.

"The lab lights are turned off too," Connant said as he looked over at the doorway to the lab. "I turned those lights off earlier," Carrington said. "But not the infirmary lights?" Connant asked him. "No," Carrington said, shaking his head. "Then who turned off the lights?" Atkins asked him. A feeling of unease began to well up inside of Atkins and Connant as the implications took hold in their minds.

Carrington reached into the doorway and felt around on the wall for the light switches. "There they are," he said as he flipped the light switch, illuminating the room. At first, everything appeared to be in order, until the trio looked at the table where Thing lay. Stepping over to the body on the table, Carrington noticed that it seemed... smaller than it had before. Where there had been gooey sections of flesh there were now dark pockets of air.

Grabbing a pair of surgical gloves, Carrington slipped them on before grabbing a scalpel and probing stick. He held the scalpel defensively before probing the body on the table with the metal wand. The burnt husk folded inward. "That... that's not good," Atkins said nervously.

"It's... it's gone," Carrington said as he stepped away from the husk and looked around the room. His eyes settled on the fridge on the floor, which showed blood stains on the handle and the lock. "Louis, which counter did you leave the keys on?" Carrington asked him as he looked at the counter holding the microscope and blood samples.

Atkins and Connant both walked over to the fridge and saw the blood stains. "Those look like hand prints," Connant said. "Finger prints? But why bother imitating someone at this point?" Atkins asked him. "Maybe not a whole person. Maybe just an arm and a hand," Connant surmised. "Is the lock damaged?" Atkins asked as Connant grabbed a pair of surgical gloves and put them on before moving to hold the lock. "No, but it _has_ been tampered with. It's not in position anymore," Connant said worriedly as he unhooked the lock and opened the fridge door.

"The blood's gone," Connant said. "Do we have any samples that are still good?" Atkins asked as he looked over at the counter. "Only if it hasn't touched that one petri dish, but it looks like it's already starting to oxidize," Carrington said as he stepped closer.

"It could still be used for a test on at least one or two people if we put small amounts into another petri dish or two," Carrington said. "No. We don't know if that Thing made contact with the blood at all. It could already be contaminated at this point," Atkins said forlornly.

"Then what do we do?" Connant asked as he stood up. "We have to find that Thing. We have to alert the others to what's happened. That Thing must not have been burned enough. There must've still been enough intact tissue left inside it for... whatever it did," Carrington surmized as he leaned against the counter. "Who here has practice with a flame thrower?" Connant asked.

"I've watched the others use them, but I've never been taught properly," Carrington said. "I've had... limited practice... melting snow outside. Not enough to use one safely in a room full of people, though," Atkins said. "Gentlemen, the longer we stand here and do nothing, the longer that Thing has free reign to roam the station and find a place to hide... or worse, _escape_ ," Carrington said pointedly.

Atkins and Connant both turned to look at him. "We have to warn the others in the recreation room about what has happened," Carrington said. "We must do it now. We must leave. Keep the light on. It's turned off when we return, then we'll know that it has made its way back here at some point," Carrington said before he marched over to the doorway and entered the hallway. Connant and Atkins both ran after him.

"Stewart, wait!" Atkins shouted. "Don't go out there alone, you idiot!" Connant chimed in, chastising the younger man. "Then hurry up!" Carrington retorted as he began jogging through the hallway.

 **The Rec Room...**

Ralsen yawned as he looked over at the doorway of the rec room. "So, who here thinks that those guys are probably going to test themselves before the rest of us?" Ralsen asked as he looked around the room at everyone else. "Anyone? I'm bettin' five bucks on it myself," he said, just before Carrington ran into the room.

"Stewart?" Hendry asked in alarm. "The Thing isn't dead yet," he said. "Yeah, we know that," Barclay said. "No, you don't understand," Carrington said, just as Atkins and Connant caught up with him in the doorway. "What don't we understand?" Barclay asked him.

"It's gone! It's taken the keys to the fridge and the blood!" Atkins exclaimed. Everyone stared at the trio in surprise and confusion. Barclay blinked rapidly before tilting his head as he squinted at the men. "I-I'm sorry, but... say that again, please?"

"The Thing is loose. It got up off the examination table and is now somewhere inside the station," Carrington explained. "Wait, I thought that thing was too badly burnt to be any threat," Ralsen said. "I guess we didn't let it burn _long enough_ ," Barclay said in realization.

"What about the blood test?" Hendry asked. "It took the blood. We have no uncontaminated blood left," Connant replied. "Well then how do we tell who's human?" Stiles asked. "We can save that for after we find our missing corpse," Barclay said as he pulled out his Colt and prepped it. "Wait, you know that bullets don't work on this thing," Carrington said as he saw the gun.

"They won't kill it, but they might slow it down. At the very least, the heat from each round passing through it should do _something_ ," Barclay retorted. "And what if you cause it to bleed all over the place? What if that Thing's blood squirts into someone's mouth or face when it gets shot?" Carrington asked Barclay, causing the man to pause in his actions.

"Remember, Allison; just a small piece of this thing is enough to take over an entire person if given enough time," Carrington warned. "Let's get to the flamethrowers," Barclay said as he stowed his weapon. Hendry stowed his gun as well. "Hey, what would electricity do to it?" Ralsen asked. "Excuse me?" Carrington asked as he turned his head.

"Well, we've still got some cattle prods in storage. Do you think those might work on it?" Ralsen asked. "It could," Connant said. "Electricity could fry it pretty severely. Yes, we should gather the cattle prods. Are they self contained units or do they need to be plugged into a power source?" Carrington asked.

"Uh... I don't remember," Ralsen replied. "Come on, let's go," Dutton said as he walked over past Barclay and the others, exiting the room and heading for the storage room that held the flamethrowers. Everyone quickly grouped together as they made their way to the outer right entrance, next to which was the room that held their best defense.

Scanning the floor as they walked, Carrington noticed that there were spots of blood leading towards the inner storage walkway that led to the Kennel. "I don't hear the dogs barking," Carrington muttered. If the Thing had indeed made its way towards the kennel, then the dogs would surely have noticed and begun making a racket.

Keeping a flashlight in hand, Carrington slowly followed the trail, at least until Hendry grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back with the rest of the group. "No being a hero. Save that for another day," Hendry said as the group entered the storage closet for the winter weather gear. Barclay stepped over and grabbed the first M2A1-7 Flamethrower on the floor. Dutton grabbed the next one, Ralsen grabbed a third one, and Van Wall grabbed the fourth one. There were two other commercial flamethrower units, both of which were grabbed by Silva and Harvey. "Hey, give me one," Lambert requested.

"Like hell. You don't have any experience or training," Barclay said as he locked the clasps together on his unit. "Come on!" Lambert pleaded. "No, Lambert. I'm not gonna risk you setting someone on fire by accident," Barclay said sternly while shooting a glare at the engineer. "Well, can I use a cattle prod?" Lambert asked. "As long as you put a rubber on the tip. Remember, always practice _safe_ electrocution," Ralsen joked with a snicker.

"What about flares?" Sanchez asked as he grabbed a flare gun. "Do you know how to use that?" Barclay asked him. "Yeah," Sanchez replied. "Now, where are the cattle prods?" Barclay asked Ralsen. "They're in another storage closet," Ralsen explained. "Alright, let's go then," Barclay said as he adjusted his flamethrower's fuel valve. He then quickly grabbed the safety goggles and put them on.

After the others had rejoined him in the hallway, Barclay slowly began moving forward. "Okay, Ralsen, which storage closet has those cattle prods?" Barclay asked him. "Uh, it should be the back area of storage room number two," Ralsen said. "Dutton, I want you and Stiles to secure the exits of the station," Hendry said firmly. "Good plan. "Van Wall, you and Pomroy go check on the dogs and make sure that the exit in the dog tunnel hasn't been breached," Barclay said, referring to the slim outer walkway that was often used as the outer entrance to the kennel.

"The rest of you stay close," Barclay said as he and Ralsen led the group through the halls of the station. Dutton and Stiles broke off from the main group to secure the first exit, before moving onto the next one, while Pomroy and Van Wall broke off and made their way to the kennel. The rest of the team quietly moved through the hallway until they reached the station commander's office.

"There's the storage room," Barclay said as he saw the closed door. "Section A or section B?" Barclay asked Ralsen. "Section B has them... I think," Ralsen replied hesitantly. Barclay took off his goggles briefly, as they had somehow fogged up. "Shit, these things need to be cleaned," he muttered as he wiped at them with a handkerchief. He then gave the keys to the room to Ralsen, who quickly unlocked the door and opened it.

"Want these back?" Ralsen offered as he dangled the keys in front of Barclay. Barclay nodded before snatching them back from Ralsen's hand. "Are they out in the open or locked up in a box?" Barclay asked the man as he turned on the lights to the storage room. "They should be a box or something. Maybe a rubber bag," Ralsen said as he looked around before carefully sauntering forward to the open doorway that led into the back area of the storage room.

"There should be an electrical warning symbol on whatever they're in," Ralsen said as he flipped on the lights to section B of storage room 2. "Is it faded or still legible?" Barclay asked him. "I, uh... don't remember," Ralsen said sheepishly. "Terrific," Barclay muttered sarcastically. "Wait, if these prods are locked up, do we have the keys for them in here?" Crenna asked as he shone his flashlight at a spot on the wall behind a backpack. "Martin, the lights are on. Turn that thing off," Hendry said as he noticed Crenna's flashlight.

"Well, I was just making sure that-" "Don't waste the battery in the light," Hendry said, cutting him off. Crenna sighed and turned off the flashlight before grabbing an ice pick from a cabinet nearby. After a few more minutes of searching, the group found three wooden crates marked with electrical warning symbols. " _Bingo_ ," Lambert said with a grin.

"Where are the keys?" Barclay asked as Hendry kneeled down next to one of the crates. "Uh... I honestly don't know. I've never used these things before," Ralsen said. "Ralsen... do you know if these things even _work?_ " Barclay asked him. "No," Ralsen admitted sheepishly.

"Well, these don't look too old," Hendry said as he saw the rubber lining on parts of the crates, and saw that there was a copyright mark on the crate dated from the 1970's. "Look, if these things don't work, then there's no point in using them," Barclay said frustratedly. "Hey, why do we even _have_ cattle prods in the first place?" Caldwell asked. "Well, back when the Amundsen-Scott Station was established, they used to have cattle over there for milk and meat," Crenna said.

"They had cows in Antarctica?" Sanchez asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow. "Yep. Back then, Amundsen-Scott was also called _The Big Magnet_ by some people, since it's located precisely in the center of the South Pole," Crenna explained. "How long ago are we talking?" Sanchez asked him. "Oh, probably around the nineteen thirties or forties," Crenna replied. "They stopped keeping cattle down here after a few years though. It wasn't very sustainable," Crenna explained.

"So... why do we have cattle prods if there haven't been any cattle around here for decades?" Caldwell asked him. "That's a good question, Martin. Care to answer that?" Hendry asked. "Beats me. Although, these things _can_ be used for providing electrical current to certain materials at a distance, as well as tormenting annoying personnel," Crenna said with a grin.

"I'm not asking about your past anymore," Lambert said with distaste. "I wasn't going to tell you anything," Crenna said. "Well, bust them out anyway and test them to see if they work. Find out what they draw power from. If they need to be plugged into a wall... we'll figure something out," Barclay said with a frustrated sigh.

 **The Kennel...**

"The dogs seem fine," Pomroy said, noticing that the animals were rather calm, all things considered. "Yeah. Let's check the exit by the end of the dog tunnel and then meet up with the others," Van Wall said, noticing that Sykes was watching him from his spot on the floor with flattened ears. "Okay, you stay here while I check out the exit," Pomroy said. Van Wall looked at the dogs. "Uh... maybe we should _both_ go check it out. These dogs aren't exactly fond of me," Van Wall said.

"Wimp," Pomroy teased before getting up and gesturing for Van Wall to follow him down the hallway. The eight dogs in the kennel watched the two men depart quietly, making no sound as the foot steps echoed down the corridor. Once the men were out of sight, the dogs continued staring at the walls silently, and unmoving, except for two Alaskan Malamutes named Jake and Vince, and one Siberian Husky named Morris, who behaved in a normal fashion before resting their heads on their front legs, watching the wall through their peripheral vision.

 **Outer Left Entrance...**

Stiles jiggled the handle of the door under he was satisfied that it was locked securely. "This one's good. Let's check out the one near the laundry room," Stiles said. Dutton nodded his head in agreement before following the man back out into the main hallway, before turning right and heading into the doorway to the hall that held the bathrooms and shower room, the laundry room, the stairs to the generator room, two storage rooms, and the secondary left exit.

Stiles and Dutton quickly walked over to the door, checking it for damage. "Looks good. It's locked tight," Stiles said while Dutton leaned against the wall, checking both Stiles and the hallway to make sure that nothing took them by surprise. "Should we meet up with the others now, or should we inspect the hallway, since we're already here?" Dutton asked Stiles.

"We'll go meet up with the others. It'll be safer if we stay in a larger group while searching the rooms and the labs," Stiles replied. Dutton nodded his head before walking towards the main hallway. The two men silently made their way through the hallway, constantly looking over their shoulders with each room that they passed along the way.

 **Back In Storage Room # 02...**

"There we go," Lambert said as he tested the cattle prod on a metal rod. "Yikes," Silva gasped as he saw the electricity. "How much charge do these batteries have?" Sanchez asked as Thorne picked up a cattle prod. "They're good for another two years. The cold's been kind to them," Ralsen said as he looked at the battery packages inside the crates.

The cattle prods were quickly distributed among the men, with one being given to Hendry, Lambert, Thorne, and Walters. "So, just what do we do now?" Sanchez asked. "We go hunting," Barclay said. "Yeah, but I mean, do we all move as one big group? Do we split up? What's the plan?" Sanchez clarified.

"We'll move in groups of three and four," Barclay said. "Crenna and Atkins will go with me. Hendry, will you stay with Ralsen and Carrington?" Barclay asked. "Sure," Hendry replied with a nod. "Good. Sanchez, you'll go with Thorne and Silva," Barclay said. "Harvey, I want you to take Caldwell and Kinner. And Walters will go with Connant and Lambert. Everybody keep track of time. We'll all regroup in the rec room in thirty minutes. If you see the other four, tell them to go-" Barclay stopped as he saw Dutton and Stiles enter the storage room.

"Okay, Stiles and Dutton? I want you two to go join up with Pomroy and Van Wall," Barclay said firmly. "Eh?" Stiles asked him. "You heard me. Go meet up with them," Barclay said. "Wait, are the exits all secured?" Hendry asked them. "Yeah. Everything's intact," Dutton replied.

"Are those the cattle prods?" Stiles asked as he saw the devices being held by Lambert and the others. "No, they're really expensive cues," Ralsen snarked. "Ben, shut up," Lambert said in annoyed tone. "Come on, we're wasting time," Barclay said as he marched out of the room.

"So, who searches where?" Harvey asked. Barclay turned around and looked at everyone in the room. "Okay, let's do this again. Crenna, Atkins, and myself are Blue Team. Hendry, Ralsen, and Carrington are Yellow Team. Thorne, Silva, and Walters are Green Team. Sanchez, Connant, and Lambert are Red Team. Harvey, Caldwell, and Kinner are Orange Team. Dutton, Stiles, Pomroy, and Van Wall will be Purple Team. Any questions?" Barclay asked.

"Um... who searches what parts of the station?" Kinner asked him. "Yellow Team will search the infirmary and the medical lab. Red Team will search the storage rooms near the outer left exits. Green Team will search the map room and radio room. Orange Team will search the green house and the vegetable garden before moving onto the kitchen and dining room," Barclay said. "Wait a minute! The green house is a special environment. You can't send just anyone to check it out," Walters said. "Fine, Green Team will search the green house and Red Team will search the storage rooms near the left exits and the showers, while Orange Team searches the map room," Barclay said.

"Purple Team will stay near the kennel. Blue team will search the dark room and the laundry room. We'll all meet up at the rec room in thirty minutes, and then we'll search the top floor before searching the generator room and old storage area together," Barclay said.

"You forgot the geology lab, the meteorology lab, and the office for the station commander," Caldwell pointed out. "Oh. Green Team will search those first, before moving onto the green house and the workshop and supply closet," Barclay said. "Everybody know what they're doing?" he asked. "Yeah," Stiles said.

"Good. Let's roll," Barclay said before the group split up into their respective teams. The hunt for the Thing was quiet and tense. Even with the obvious threat of the creature moving about, some members of Hawke Station still reminded themselves of what had been discovered earlier that day. Even as they searched room after room, the men of Hawke Station watched each other closely, always looking over their shoulders.

The possibility that one or more of their teammates being an imposter kept Stiles, Sanchez, Barclay, Thorne, Atkins, Lambert, Connant, and Harvey on edge. Crenna and several others, caught up in their current predicament, had forgotten about the revelation in the rec room while they searched for the creature. But the rest remembered. For them, they weren't merely searching for one beast, but also trying to determine if they could trust the person next to them. Every dark room meant both a monster waiting inside _and_ a monster waiting to follow them. For many, Barclay included, they felt as though they were both the hunter _and_ the hunted at the same time.

 **Outside The Shower Room...**

Lambert quietly watched as Sanchez and Connant swept the stalls. "Nothing. There's no sign of it here," Connant said as he shone his flashlight around at the corners of a stall. "No stains, no blood, no nothing," he said. "Maybe it only bleeds when it changes form," Sanchez postulated.

Turning off his flashlight, Connant turned around to look at Lambert. "Bill, could you, perhaps, not aim that thing at the floor? This room does have some condensation still in it. I'd prefer that you didn't shock _all_ of us by accident," Connant requested. Lambert raised an eyebrow in confusion, before realizing that he had indeed been pointing his cattle prod at a damp section of the floor.

"Oh, sorry," Lambert said in embarrassment before shifting his cattle prod to aim up. "You know, maybe I should just go wait in the hall. I mean, the lights are on, and we know that it isn't in here," Lambert said. Connant studied the man for a moment. "How far into the hall?" Connant asked him suspiciously. "Far enough that this prod won't electrocute you," Lambert replied.

Connant mulled over Lambert's answer in his mind for a minute. "Okay. But you let us know the second you see or hear anything, understand?" Connant said. "Yeah, I understand," Lambert replied, nodding his head. "Good. I'm gonna check the laundry baskets and the hamper to see if there's anything we've missed," Connant said, keeping his eyes on Lambert before he turned around.

"Sanchez?" Connant asked after he noticed that the radio operator was missing. " _In here_ ," Sanchez replied from a closed toilet stall. "Tom, what the hell are you doing in there?" Connant asked him. " _Takin' a shit, man. I've had to go for the past hour, so while we're here_..." Sanchez replied. "Oh, for God's sake," Connant spat in annoyance, causing Lambert to snort before walking away and stepping into the hall.

Stepping away, Lambert glanced down both ends of the hall, seeing Barclay and the others entering the laundry room. Turning around, Lambert looked down the other end of the hall, before glancing back at his electric cattle prod. At least two minutes went by before he glanced back over at the other end of the hall and made his way to the spot where the steps to the generator room were located.

Looking down the stairs, Lambert saw that the door was closed, as it usually was. Stepping away, he walked over to the corner of the wall and looked down the hallway, where the two storage rooms were located side-by-side. He shrugged his shoulders before turning around, only to stop when he realized that something was off with the lighting of the hallway.

Walking back to the open area near the stairs, Lambert gazed back over at the doorway to the bathroom. Connant and Sanchez still had not left the room. Taking a breath, Lambert grasped his cattle prod firmly before slowly stalking back over to the storage rooms, just for a quick peek, then he would regroup with the others. After glancing back over his shoulder one last time, Lambert stepped closer to storage rooms, seeing that the door to the first one was closed, but when he walked over to the second one, it was partially opened, and the lights were turned on.

Lambert took another quick glance back over his shoulder before steadying his cattle prod as he leaned against the wall. Lambert glanced down at the floor, searching for any shadows or stains on the floor. Ever so slowly, Lambert reached over and gently pushed the door open, keeping his cattle prod ready. He continually glanced down at the floor, searching for shadows, but seeing none. Eventually, he managed to push the door open the whole way before peering over the side of the doorway.

Looking around, Lambert saw only body bags and stretchers on the floor. There were shelves filled with boxes of winter gear and canned food, but there were no signs of the Thing. Lambert peered deeper inside and glanced over at the light switch in curiosity before slowly stepping back from the room's doorway.

 **The Laundry Room...**

"Bar, we've scanned the room twice over. It's not in here," Atkins said. Barclay carefully sifted through the laundry, piece by piece. "Bar, what are you doing? It's not hiding in the laundry baskets," Crenna said. "I'm checking for something else," Barclay replied as he searched for signs of damage on each person's article of clothing.

"Bar, we can't stay in here too long. You said that we all have to meet back in the rec room after thirty minutes. It's already been fifteen minutes," Atkins pointed out. "Okay. Just... I just wanna be thorough," Barclay said with a sigh. There were several individual laundry baskets full of clean clothes that had each crew member's name on them, as well as an equal number of dirty baskets.

"Bar, do you really think that this thing managed to take over someone before getting to Reynolds?" Crenna asked him. "I do, Martin. I really do, and I'm not taking any chances. Whoever was taken over has already gotten to someone else, and that means that two people aren't who they say they are. I've already explained this, so I don't know why you need me to repeat myself," Barclay replied.

"It's just... who could it have possibly gotten to?" Crenna asked him. "Crenna, not everyone went to bed at the same time that night. And we still don't know just how long that damn thing was wandering the station before it entered the kennel area," Barclay said. "But why didn't it do this sooner? Those bodies had been thawed out for at least a few days before it attacked. Why wait so long?" Crenna asked him.

"Because this Thing is smart. It knows how to play possum. It was asleep in the ice for thousands of years before those Norwegians dug it up. It started attacking the Norwegians right away when it woke up. When it got to Outpost Thirty-One, it had learned from its mistakes at the Norwegian camp. It laid low and only attacked people who were alone before it finally got caught in their kennel," Barclay said.

"It's _smart_ , Crenna. It can _learn_. It learned to sabotage its victims plans to reveal who it had imitated. It can damn well learn to play dead," Barclay said before he turned away and walked over to the doorway. "Red Team should be searching the storage rooms by now," Barclay stated as he entered the hallway and looked down the hall.

Looking over at the entrance to the shower room, Barclay walked over and cleared his throat as he saw Connant standing next to a closed stall, with Lambert and Sanchez nowhere to be seen. "There are plenty of other stalls in here, Bar. Take your pick," Connant said in a frustrated tone. "Are they... seriously?" Barclay asked as he looked down and saw a pair of shoes under one of the stalls. "Sanchez, Lambert, you guys need to hurry up," Barclay said.

"Bar, why did you mention Lambert? He isn't in here," Connant said. "What do you mean?" Barclay asked him before he glanced around at the floor again, seeing that only the one stall was actually occupied. "Well, you should have passed him in the hallway when you got here," Connant said. "What? Why would I pass him in the hallway?" Barclay asked him. "He's standing guard while Sanchez here does his business," Connant explained. "Connant, when was the last time you actually _saw_ Lambert?" Barclay asked him. "About seven minutes ago," Connant said.

Barclay looked back over at the open doorway before returning his gaze to Connant. "Jonathan, how long until Sanchez is finished in there?" Barclay asked him as Crenna and Atkins walked up behind him. "I don't know. Hey, Tom! How long until you're finished in there?" Connant asked as he banged a fist on the stall door.

" _Geez! Just give me few more minutes. I gotta wipe my ass!_ " Sanchez replied. "Connant, did Lambert say where he was going?" Barclay asked him in an urgent manner. "Going? I told him to notify me and Sanchez if he saw or heard anything while he was waiting in the hallway," Connant said. "Did he?" Barclay asked him. "I haven't... oh _shit_ ," Connant swore as he realized the implications of Barclay's questioning.

Connant quickly dashed into the hallway, looking around for signs of Lambert. "God dammit!" Connant hissed worriedly. Barclay and the others quickly followed him out of the room, walking through the hallway before checking the stairs to the generator room. Determining that the door hadn't been touched since the last maintenance check, the men returned to the wide intersection area near the doorway to the front hall before looking down the hallway towards the outer left exit, and focusing their attention on the open doorway to the storage room with the lights turned on. Barclay aimed his flamethrower forward and stepped in front of the group as they began making their way down the hall.

" _Hey! What's going on out there!? Don't leave me alone in here!_ " Sanchez could be heard whining loudly from the shower room. "Atkins, go keep an eye on Sanchez," Barclay said to the physician. Atkins nodded his head before turning around and heading back over to the shower room, while the others continued their trek to the open doorway. Barclay stood just outside the edge of the doorway, glancing down at the cattle prod on the floor, before peeking inside the room, seeing body bags, shelves of gear and food, and nothing else.

Stepping forward and keeping his flamethrower aimed in front of him, Barclay scanned the room for any sign of Lambert or the Thing. "Lambert? Bill?" Barclay asked nervously. as he looked around the room, seeing a few boxes holding some of Dutton's exercise gear on the floor. "Who turned on the lights?" Barclay asked himself quietly as he slowly walked into the room, followed by Crenna and Connant, who had picked up the cattle prod.

"Connant, did you see this light turned on when you guys entered the hall?" Barclay asked as he performed a sweep of the room. "No," Connant replied. "Lambert, where are you?" Crenna asked in a hushed voice. "He's not here," Barclay said. He quickly turned around and walked out of the storage room, making his way to the other one. Looking at the door, he saw that the handle was unlocked, and the door itself was not closed properly. The lock was not in place.

"Connant, keep that prod steady," Barclay said as he held his flamethrower's hose over his arm before reaching to push the door handle back. He slowly pushed the door open, before ordering Crenna to turn on his flashlight and aim it straight ahead. Glancing down, Barclay saw blood stains on the floor. He quickly kicked the door open, allowing the lights of the hall and Crenna's flashlight to pour in, illuminating the ghastly sight before them.

Lambert, stripped of his clothes, was leaning back against a shelving unit as a multitude of tentacles and tendrils violated his body. Several blood and ooze-covered tentacles were shoved down his throat and into his ears and stomach. Connected to these tentacles was a man-sized creature, covered with short blue-gray fur, a dog-like head with three red eyes and a mouth full of fangs and the lower jaws were split like mandibles, sending tentacles forward from its maw.

The body of the Thing was humanoid in shape and proportion, but the front torso was lacking any hair or fur and instead was an open mouth full of sharp teeth, with dozens of imitation dog tongues hanging out. The forelimbs were very human-like, but also covered in light blue-gray fur, albeit with small blade-like appendages sticking out from the elbows. One limb was holding Lambert down, its seven fingers, each ending in sharp claws, keeping pressure on the body, but not fusing with the man's flesh.

The Thing turned its head to face the men. Tilting its head, the Thing let out an inhuman screech. The mouth-stomach began to bleed as a wave of small worm-like tentacles began erupting forth, spilling blood onto the floor. Standing firm, Barclay glared at the abomination with fury before letting loose with a streak of fire.

The Thing bellowed out a horrific cry as the flames consumed it, before Barclay aimed his weapon at Lambert. "I'm sorry, Bill," Barclay whispered before he sent a stream of fire towards the man. The Thing screeched as it pulled away from Lambert, its tentacles snapping as they were torn violently from its mouth with its other forelimb. The Thing quickly stood up and stepped forward, fire engulfing its body, before Barclay sent another blast of white heat at it.

The beast began making a screaming noise, and foot steps echoed through the hall as the other men of Hawke Station made their way over to the scene. Barclay glanced over through his peripheral vision as Hendry and the others ran towards him. "Stay back!" Barclay shouted before shifting his gaze back to the burning alien.

The Thing began moving forward again, causing Barclay to back up as it advanced forward, eventually stepping out into the hallway, allowing everyone to see the beast as it exited the room and turned left, heading for the end of the hall. Crenna backed up against the wall as the Thing ran past him, watching it with wide, terrified eyes.

Barclay looked over at the others, all of whom were standing still in shock at the sight. "Move your asses! Ralsen, come on!" Barclay shouted, causing the assistant mechanic to snap out of his stupor. Connant quickly chased after the Thing and jabbed at it with the cattle prod, sending an electric shock through the creature, causing it to howl as flames continued to consume it.

Connant backed up and jabbed at the Thing as it screamed again before turning around and lashing out with a flame-covered arm. Connant let out a cry of surprise and alarm before he fell onto his back, desperately holding the cattle prod in front of him to keep the Thing at bay. The Thing shrieked after it received another shock from the device, before it backed up and resumed its path to the exit.

"Don't let it leave!" Barclay shouted as he caught up with them, quickly stepping in front of Connant before sending another stream of fire at the Thing. Ralsen also let loose with a stream of flame. "Just fucking _die_ ," Ralsen growled at the monstrosity as it let loose another howl. The Thing soon fell onto its knees, before eventually succumbing to the fire and collapsing onto the floor.

Meanwhile, back at the storage room, Sanchez, having finally caught up with the others, was busy using a fire extinguisher to prevent the whole building from catching on fire, after Dutton had arrived and had added his own fire to Lambert's assimilated corpse. "God damn it," Dutton muttered as he looked at Lambert's burnt body. Stepping forward, Dutton paused when he heard a wet noise from the other side of the room.

"Jesus, man," Stiles muttered in a mix of fear and disgust as he entered the room. "Quiet," Dutton said. "Sorry. I know you guys were friends, I'll-" "No, _listen!_ " Dutton hissed. The wet noise has heard again, prompting Stiles to turn on the light to the room so that he Dutton could see just what was making the noise, just as Caldwell, Crenna, and Atkins entered the room behind them. "What the _fuck?_ " Stiles asked as he saw the mass of flesh, blood, bones, and tendrils near the corner of the room.

The mass of flesh was pulsating, with eyes and small lips with teeth found in various places on it. Small bent limbs could be seen protruding various places at odd angles, and various body parts, such as toes, noses, and ears could be seen in odd proportions at various locations along the mass. One portion of the fleshy mass was thin enough that a rib cage of sorts could be seen through the skin. Another part of the mass, near a cluster of eyes, began to warp and stretch, before a beak breached through a thin membrane of flesh and slime, attached to a disgusting worm-like head with multiple tiny red eyes surrounding it. The eyes shone brightly as the beak opened and the Thing let out a high-pitched screech, almost sounding mechanical in nature.

Dutton glared at the hideous blob Thing before sending a stream of flame at it, setting it ablaze and lighting up the room once more. The Thing let out a series of screams and howls as it continued to burn. Its tendrils and whips flailed about in desperation, causing Dutton to torch it once more, aiming at the lower portion of its body to cover the tentacles thoroughly.

Foot steps were soon heard, causing Dutton to glance back as Barclay entered the room. "I missed part of it?" he asked. "Yeah," Dutton replied. "It was hiding in the corner," he added before turning his head to face the burning blob-Thing again. The beaked worm head soon stopped howling before collapsing onto the rest of its burning body, its flesh crackling along with the flames that consumed it.

Barclay stared at the burning mass of flesh and bone, watching it blacken and smoke before eventually giving the order for the others to extinguish it. Walking out of the room, Barclay looked back over at the burning corpse in the hallway, and then back at what was left of the charred Lambert-Thing before walking over to the wall and slamming his fist against it. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths to calm himself. When he turned around, he saw the rest of the men all grouped together in the hallway, watching him, waiting for his next orders. Barclay scanned their faces carefully, trying to determine which of them he could still trust... and which of them was waiting for him to turn his back at the wrong moment.

* * *

Author's Notes: And that is chapter eight of the story. It's a long chapter, and a lot of stuff happens in it. I hope this makes up for the delay between chapter posts, since I've been busy at work and trying to work on the next chapter of my most recent Zootopia fan fiction story. Be sure to let me know what you think of the story so far in your reviews. Also, I'd like to know what everyone's thoughts are in regards to comparing and contrasting Barclay with MacReady from the John Carpenter film. Both characters fill a similar role, but both have different approaches to their situation. I'd like to know what all your thoughts and observations are so far.


	9. Tensions On The Rise

**THE THING II: Hawke Station**

Disclaimer: John Carpenter's THE THING is property of Universal.

* * *

 **Chapter 09: Tensions On The Rise**

* * *

Date: Winter of 1982 - 1983

 **United States Antarctic Research Outpost "Hawke Station"**

Barclay watched as Ralsen finished pushing the snow with the bulldozer, forming a large embankment around a snowy pit. Inside of this shallow pit were the remains of the Things, including what had once been Childs, Reynolds, and Lambert. Silva had taken photographs of the remains for evidence and documentation purposes, and was currently holding a camera with him as the rest of the men poured kerosene on the bodies.

"What about those burnt men from Thirty-One?" Hendry asked Barclay. "What's the point? They've already been burned beyond any use for that Thing," Barclay replied. "What about MacReady's body? Just because he was proven human earlier doesn't mean that Thing couldn't have infected his body while we were searching for it later," Hendry noted. "We'll see. For now, I just want the immediate threats disposed of," Barclay replied.

The sound of snow being crunched under boots caught Barclay's attention. He looked to his left and saw Thorne walking over to him. "Thorne?" Barclay asked. "Bar, the whole time we were searching for that thing, we never once found the missing blood," Thorne said worriedly. Barclay remained quiet as he processed Thorne's statement. "Damn, you're right," Barclay admitted.

"Once we've burned these remains, we'll start searching for the missing blood bags. It's doubtful that they'll still be any good, though," Barclay said with a sigh as he prepped his flamethrower. Soon, the canisters of kerosene had been emptied. Dutton and Harvey set their empty canisters down and made their way over to a nearby barrel. "Leave it," Barclay ordered.

"I think we've covered it with enough kerosene," Barclay said. He then motioned for everyone to step back as he walked forward, aiming his flamethrower at the now soaked remains. "This time, stay dead," Barclay muttered before he let loose a stream of fire at the remains. He aimed the flamethrower at another portion of the remains and fired again, setting them ablaze before stepping back and watching as the fire burned the abominations.

Looking over at the rest of the men, Barclay began studying their faces, watching their reactions for clues as to who among them was an imposter. "Whoo-hoo! Let's get some marshmallows and weenies!" shouted Ralsen as he stood on the tread-covers of the bulldozer. Barclay noticed the others shift their gaze over to Ralsen briefly, before returning their attention to the burning alien remains.

A few of the men finally took notice of where Barclay's attention was drawn, and they looked at him quizzically. "Is something wrong, Bar?" Atkins asked him. "Yeah," Barclay replied curtly. "We still have an imposter or two among us," he added loudly, gauging everyone's reactions as they turned to look at him. He gripped his flamethrower tightly, although he kept it pointed at the burning remains.

"Okay, so... we've lost our best means of figuring out who's human for the time being," Barclay said, his eyes sweeping over each face. "Right now, at least one or two of you aren't who you say you are. I've already established this, but given that recent events may have shifted everyone's focus, let me remind you all," Barclay said clearly.

The men listened carefully as he spoke, each one of them giving him their undivided attention as the fire crackled and the glow of the flame illuminated their faces and coats. "We have some time before Spring arrives. We have until then to find out who's human and eliminate the imitations. If we don't, then we're all fucked," Barclay said with a frown.

"Now, given that this Thing likes to strike in the dark, my ground rules from earlier go into effect now. When you go to bed, you lock your doors. Nobody shares dorms anymore. Everybody keeps their laundry where it can be seen before and after it gets washed and dried. And Kinner? I'm sorry, but your services are being put on hold for the time being," Barclay said.

"Um... what does that mean?" Kinner asked him. "A small part of this Thing is enough to take over an entire person if given enough time. That means the easiest way for it to infect us is to intercept our food and contaminate it. I'm not making any assumptions without solid evidence, but I can't take the risk that you might be one of the imitations. So, anything that you've prepared is gonna have to be eaten by yourself," Barclay said. "That goes for everybody. We all prepare our own meals, and it's probably for the best that we all eat and drink out of cans," Barclay said.

He watched closely for any sign of protest, hoping that any objections might give away the imposters, but everyone remained solemn and contemplative as they processed his words. The imitations were indeed perfect, whoever they were. "Well, that's just _great_ ," Ralsen said with bitter sarcasm. "Is there a problem, Ralsen?" Barclay asked pointedly.

"Yeah. We're all gonna be stuck eating _SPAM_ for the rest of the winter," Ralsen spat. "That... is unfortunate, but you'll live," Barclay said. "I hate SPAM," Ralsen said. "Then I guess you'll have to learn how to cook it so that it doesn't kill you," Barclay said. "Hey... that gives me an idea," Thorne said.

"Huh?" Barclay asked him. "Remember how the blood test with the dead Thing cells showed that they can't infect anyone?" Thorne asked. "I remember," Barclay replied. "Well, what if we cook each food item or expose it to enough heat for a long enough period of time that it kills any imitation cells? I could even take samples of what Kinner's prepared and test it with blood to see what happens," Thorne said.

"That's a good idea, but there's one problem with that plan," Barclay said. "Problem? Oh, right," Thorne said as he realized what Barclay was referring to. "Wait, what's the problem?" Hendry asked, confused. "We don't have any uncontaminated blood to use for that kind of test," Barclay reminded him. "Yeah, that... that's right," Hendry said.

"Doc, Thorne, Carrington, and Connant; I want all of you working on a way to figure out who's human and who isn't," Barclay said. "Until we can find out who's who, no one leaves the camp, and we don't let anyone enter," Barclay said. "This started at Thule Station. It ends here," he added firmly.

* * *

 **DAY 08**

* * *

 **The Meteorology Lab**

Silva and Stiles looked at the equipment in front of them. "Wind is picking up in that area," Silva said. "Yeah, and pressure readings are showing signs of an incoming storm," Stiles said. Silva looked over at the readouts. "Nothing definitive yet, though," Silva said. "What do you mean it's not definitive? I've seen those readings in the past. We're gonna get a storm," Stiles said. "Not necessarily," Silva said in response. "Yes, we _are_ ," Stiles said. "Alright, let's give it a few more hours and see what happens. Does that sound agreeable to you?" Silva asked him.

"Yeah, that sounds agreeable," Stiles said as he got out of his chair. "Where are you going?" Silva asked him. "The bathroom. Then the rec room. I've got a card game scheduled with Crenna and Van Wall. And I'll bet you twenty dollars that we're getting a storm," Stiles replied before walking out of the room.

 **The Dining Room**

Benjamin Ralsen grabbed an instant oatmeal packet from the cereal cupboard before holding it up to his face, inspecting it for signs of damage. Despite the bag seeming intact, he still hesitated to open it. Sighing in frustration, he put the packet back in the cupboard and closed the door. "This is _bullshit_ ," Ralsen muttered in contempt for the entire situation that he and the others were facing before he walked out of the room.

 **The Recreation Room...**

Crenna and Stiles both looked at the cards in their hands. Stiles glanced up at Crenna before looking back down at his cards, while Crenna did the same. Perpendicular to both of them, Van Wall glanced between both of them as he checked his cards, before reaching out to pick another card from the stack. Stiles and Crenna both watched his hand as it made contact with the card before picking it up.

Both men looked at the card underneath. Stiles looked back at his own deck before putting two cards down. Crenna looked over and made a move to reach for them, only to hesitate. Van Wall and Stiles both watched him as he fidgeted, unsure if he should touch the cards after someone else now. Crenna soon retracted his hand before returning his attention to the cards that he already had.

Meanwhile, over at the big coffee table, Harvey and Pomroy were playing JENGA. Both men were silent as they built up the tower of blocks, before Pomroy took out a quarter. "What's that for?" Harvey asked the dog handler. "To decide who goes first," Pomroy responded. Harvey nodded his head in understanding.

 **The Green House**

Dillon Walters looked around at his plants with a frown on his face. Holding a small metal probing stick to a tomato plant, Walters began to fret. _Can this thing imitate plant life? What if one of those things got in here and contaminated the plants?_ Looking around at the vegetation that surrounded him on all sides, Walters became very nervous.

 **The Medical Lab, Around Noon...**

Atkins rubbed his temples as he looked over at Thorne's notes. Feeling a sensation in his gut, Atkins began to frown before he looked over at the opened can of beans he had eaten earlier. "Hey, Arnie? I gotta use the bathroom," Atkins said. Thorne looked over at the older man. They were the only two people in the lab, as Carrington and Connant were both speaking to Barclay and Hendry about their different ideas in Hendry's office.

"Is it gonna be quick?" Thorne asked him after looking over at the cattle prod that was leaning against the far end of the lab table. "No. I don't think so," Atkins said with a frown. "Make sure you let someone else know, okay? I'll stay here until you come back," Thorne said. Atkins nodded his head in appreciation. "Thanks," he said as he got off his stool. "Don't take all day in there, though. And make sure to flush when you're done," Thorne called out to him as he walked away.

"Yes, _Father_ ," Atkins retorted with rolling eyes. "Don't talk to your father that way, boy. Show me some respect," Thorne joked, causing Atkins to chuckle along with him. "I'll try to be as quick as I can," Atkins said before hurrying out of the room, leaving Thorne alone.

Looking over at the empty bean can, Thorne scoffed. "I told him not to those," he muttered under his breath before resuming his work. Stopping to each over and grab the can, Thorne looked at the expiration date on it. "And he _really_ should've listened," he added a minute later after setting the can down.

Looking back at his notes, he began reading them out loud to himself. "What am I missing? What am I not thinking of?" Thorne asked himself as he leaned back in his stool. _Each piece can take over an entire organism. There's gotta be something about that. Something we can exploit_ , Thorne thought to himself.

* * *

 **One Hour Later...**

Stepping out of the stall, Atkins walked over to the sink and washed his hands. Looking down at his watch, he frowned. _I'm gonna catch hell for taking so long_ , Atkins thought to himself. Just as he turned around to head over to the doorway of the shower room, the lights went out. "What the heck?" Atkins asked in confusion.

Carefully stepping forward foot by foot, Atkins eventually placed his hands on the doorway as he slowly exited the room. He carefully felt his way down the hallway before reaching the doorway to the left-side lobby, or the Grand Hall as most called it when the Summer staff were around. He heard shuffling in the distance, before stopping in his tracks and holding his breath. A few minutes passed without another sound, prompting him to let out a breath in relief, before faint shouting could be heard in the distance, emanating from down the hallway.

" _What just happened!?_ " " _Who turned off the lights!?_ " " _Everybody stay calm!_ " Barclay's voice could be heard from the rec room. Atkins placed his hands on the wall and began feeling his way through the dark as he carefully walked towards the recreation room. He spent several minutes keeping his hands steadied against the wall as he moved slowly, trying not to trip. After a few minutes, he felt his hand move into the doorway of an empty room, and just as he was about to move forward, something large brushed past him, knocking him to the floor with a yelp of surprise.

" _Did anyone hear that?_ " Barclay's voice asked. As Atkins struggled to get up and place his hands on the wall again, he saw a beam of light in the distance. "H-Hey! Hey, it's me!" Atkins called out as the light was shone in his direction. He heard boots hitting the floor as the person holding the light moved closer.

"Doc?" Barclay asked as he closed in on Atkins. "Bar. It's me. S-Something, or someone... knocked me over by this doorway," Atkins said. Barclay aimed the light at the doorway, revealing it to be the doorway of the radio room. "Were they leaving or going in?" Barclay asked him. "I think they were leaving. I didn't hear any noise, I just felt something move against me," Atkins explained.

Barclay quickly aimed the light and Atkins and examined him for signs of injuries. "You look intact," Barclay said. "Well, _yeah_. I only fell to the floor, Bar. I wasn't _assaulted_ ," Atkins replied. A minute later, Barclay frowned. "Doc? Where were you when the lights went out?" Barclay asked him.

"I just left the bathroom. I ate some beans that didn't agree with my stomach," Atkins replied grumpily. "Where's Thorne?" Barclay asked him. "He's still in the lab," Atkins replied. "Alright, come on. We're gonna go to the rec room and get some more flashlights. Then we're gonna go get Hendry and we're gonna find out what happened to the lights," Barclay said.

Atkins nodded his head before following Barclay back to the rec room. When they arrived a minute later, Dutton was handing out flashlights. "Okay, who's here and accounted for?" Barclay asked.

"I'm here," Dutton said. "Who else? Ralsen? Van Wall?" Barclay asked. "We're here?" both men replied. "Kinner?" Barclay asked. "Kinner?" Barclay asked again. "Kinner ain't here with us," Harvey said as he leaned against the pool table, holding a flashlight and aiming it at the ceiling to provide some illumination throughout the room.

"He must be in the kitchen," Barclay said. Looking around, Barclay began doing a head-count. Harvey, Ralsen, Atkins, Dutton, Stiles, Crenna, Pomroy, Van Wall, Caldwell, and Sanchez were all present. "Where's Walters?" Barclay asked. "Probably with his plants. He rarely ever comes out of the green room anymore," Ralsen said. "What about Silva?" Barclay asked. "Probably in the meteorology lab," Crenna suggested.

"Okay, Dutton? I want you and Stiles to help me get the lights back on," Barclay said before turning to look at the rest of the group. "Van Wall, I want you to take Sanchez and Atkins with you to find Hendry, Connant, and Carrington. Bring them back here. Thorne should still be in the lab. That's right across from Hendry's office, so hopefully he's already made his way over there or they've made their way to him," he finished.

"The rest of you just stay here and keep your eyes peeled," Barclay said before exiting the room with Dutton and Stiles in tow. The trio carefully made their way down the front hallway before entering the lobby and then heading through the doorway that led to the hall between the bathrooms and the second outer-left exit. Shining their lights on the staircase that led down to the generator room, the trio carefully walked over to the metal cabinet on the wall nearby that held the electrical switches inside.

Opening the breaker box, which was missing its lock, Barclay saw that the switches for all of the lights had been flipped off. "Son of a bitch," Barclay muttered before shining his light on the instruction diagram on the inside of the door. He studied the diagram carefully before resetting the switches.

He looked around at the lack of light before looking back over at the diagram. "Uh... did you miss a switch or something?" Stiles asked. "Yeah," Barclay replied as he saw the one switch he had forgotten to reset. He quickly flipped the switches back before running through their proper order again, this time causing the lights to flicker back on.

"Walters is gonna raise hell if this messed up his plants," Stiles commented. "Fuck Walters," Dutton spat. "All he ever does is whine and moan about his plants. They're all he cares about," he added. "Really? When does he whine about his plants?" Barclay asked as he turned around. "I mean, if he hardly ever leaves the green room, when do you hear him whining?" he reiterated.

"I'm just saying," Dutton said sheepishly in his own defense. Closing the cabinet door, Barclay led the two men back out into the hallway. Looking down to their right, they saw that the door to the meteorology lab was closed. Barclay quickly marched down the hall and knocked on the door.

" _Who goes there?_ " Silva asked from the other side of the door. "It's me, Silva. Open the door," Barclay said. " _Who's 'me'?_ " Silva asked. "Barclay. Allison Barclay," Barclay said. The door handle soon turned and Silva opened the door with one hand. He was holding a crowbar in the other hand, with a flashlight tucked under his arm.

"Why are you holding that?" Stiles asked him. "Protection," Silva replied. "How long have you been by yourself?" Barclay asked him. "Over an hour," Silva replied. "Okay. Have you seen or heard anything unusual in that time?" Barclay asked him.

"Only after the lights went out," Silva replied. "What have you heard?" Dutton asked him. "Weird noises... foot steps... faint yelling from who-knows-where," Silva replied. "That was us panicking when the lights went out," Dutton said. "Hey, Vic, what's the forecast?" Stiles asked him. "You win the bet," Silva replied. "How long?" Stiles asked him, causing Dutton and Barclay to look between both men in confusion. "Wait, what bet? How long for what?" Barclay asked them.

"We've got a heavy snow storm heading our way, and we've got thirty-six hours until it hits us," Silva replied. Barclay turned to look at Dutton. "Dutt, I'm gonna need you and Ralsen to help Harvey and Van Wall secure the helicopters tomorrow, or tonight. Either way, it needs to be done before this storm hits us," Barclay said. Dutton nodded his head in affirmation.

"Silva, have you seen Hendry or anyone else since the lights went out?" Barclay asked. "No. You're the first ones I've seen since Stiles went to the rec room earlier," Silva replied. "Okay, well... I'm gonna go check on Thorne in the lab. You guys head over to the Hendry's office," Barclay said before walking away. "Um... shouldn't we, I don't know, stick together?" Stiles asked him.

Barclay looked back over his shoulder and gave some consideration to Stiles' words. "Yeah. Yeah, we should. Come along then," Barclay said absentmindedly. The other three men followed him as he made his way to the medical lab, seeing Atkins, Van Wall, and Sanchez approaching his and Hendry's office. "You guys are just arriving here _now?_ " Barclay asked them. "Pomroy wanted to go check on the dogs, so we took him with us and made a detour," Van Wall said.

"And where is Pomroy now?" Barclay asked them. "He's back in the rec room. We took him back after he made sure that they hadn't pissed themselves," Harvey said. Barclay sighed tiredly before looking over at Hendry's office. The door was closed and the blinds were pulled down.

Barclay quietly reached down to put his hand on the holster for his Colt as he slowly made his way over to the office. He removed the strap on the holster and gripped the handle of the weapon as he pulled it out, keeping his finger off of the trigger. Raising a fist, Barclay rapped his knuckles against the door. "Hendry?" he asked.

" _Bar? What happened to the lights?_ " Hendry asked through the door. "Someone got to the breaker and shut them off. We got 'em back on now. Open the door," Barclay said. The door handle turned and Hendry opened it from the inside, holding his revolver in his hand. "Any idea who did it?" Hendry asked him as he pushed the door open wider, revealing Connant and Carrington holding fire axes and flashlights in their hands.

"No. No clue yet," Barclay replied as he re-holstered his pistol. "You can put the gun away, Hendry. We're gonna check on Thorne in the lab. Make sure he didn't lose his papers when the lights went out," Barclay said. "Just Thorne? But then why is Doc with you? Weren't he and Thorne working together in the lab?" Hendry asked him as he saw Atkins standing behind him.

"Doc was in the bathroom when the lights went out," Barclay said. Hendry nodded his head quietly. "You coming with?" Barclay asked him. "Sure. Sure," Hendry said, nodding his head again. "Come on, fellas. Quit hiding like scared children," Hendry said as he looked over at Connant and Carrington. "W-We are not... scared little children," Carrington replied before putting down the fire axe and patting his hands on his pants.

Barclay turned around and made his way over to the lab, noticing that the lights inside were still turned off, as were those in the infirmary. "Doc?" Barclay asked. "Yeah?" Atkins replied. "Weren't the lights still on when you left the lab?" Barclay asked him. "Well, yes, but that was over an hour ago," Atkins said.

Barclay slowly turned to look at Atkins. "An... an _hour ago?_ " Barclay asked him. "You mean to say that Thorne has been alone in the lab for over an _hour!?_ " Barclay asked him in disbelief. "I-I was in the bathroom for nearly an hour, Bar," Atkins replied.

"Doing what? Jerking off!?" Barclay snapped at him. "No! I... I ate a can of beans that didn't agree with me," Atkins explained. Barclay scoffed at him. "A can of... Jesus H. Christ," Barclay muttered indignantly. "Hey, I didn't leave him defenseless. He's got a cattle prod in there with him," Atkins said defensively.

"You're sure?" Barclay asked him. "It was there when I left," Atkins said. "Alright," Barclay finally said after a minute. He walked over to the doorway and carefully reached inside to flip on the lights. "Thorne?" Barclay asked as he stepped into the room, scanning for signs of the scientist as he walked over to the lab tables. When his gaze fell onto the lab tables, he looked down and saw the cattle prod lying on the floor.

"Doc, where exactly was that cattle prod when you left the room?" Barclay asked Atkins as he pointed to the device. "It... it was leaning against the table. It was next to Thorne," Atkins replied. "Everyone search the room and the infirmary," Barclay said authoritatively. He soon looked over at the door to the medical supply closet. _He could have hidden himself in there when the lights went off_ , Barclay thought to himself.

Walking over, Barclay stopped a foot away from the door. "Thorne? Are you in there?" Barclay asked before raising a fist and gently knocking on the door. "Thorne, if you're in there, please answer me," Barclay requested after failing to receive any response. He reached for the door handle and turned it, opening the door.

It took Barclay only a few seconds to realize what was happening when the body fell forward, stopping only when the wire around its throat caught it. "Jesus-Th-Thorne!" Barclay cried out as he fell to the ground and looked up at the dead scientist. Thorne had been garrotted, in addition to having a scalpel shoved into the side of his head.

"Arnold!?" Atkins cried out in shock as he ran over to the body. "D-Don't touch him! Don't touch him!" Connant shouted as he grabbed ahold of Atkins and held him back. "We... we can't risk mixing our fingerprints with the killer's," Connant said. The rest of the men rushed into the room and stood back, aghast at the sight of Thorne's murder.

When Barclay finally regained his composure and stood up, he looked around at the men in the room, scanning their faces and studying their reactions. All of them were horrified. Glancing over at a trash can near one of the lab tables, Barclay saw part of a vinyl glove protruding from under the lid. Whoever had done this was smart enough to avoid leaving easily traced evidence.

But the worst part, in Barclay's mind, was the absolute confirmation of his fears. Without anymore doubt in his mind, Barclay now had absolute proof that someone in the camp was an imposter. If everyone were human, then Thorne wouldn't have been killed.

 **Two Hours Later...**

After carefully freeing Thorne's body from the trap, Barclay and Atkins laid the man into a body bag with Ralsen's help. Ralsen, for his part, made no complaints about handling a dead person once more. Stepping back and looking around at everyone who had been gathered into the room, Barclay noticed that Walters and Kinner were both missing. "Dutton, I told you and Sanchez to gather _everyone_ ," Barclay said.

"I almost got Walters out until he learned why we need him. He's gone paranoid now," Dutton said, remembering how quickly Walters had shut the door on him. A minute later, however, foot steps were heard near the doorway, causing everyone to look over and see Walters standing inside with a cattle prod in his hands. Walters leaned back against the wall and kept his gaze focused on the people around him, keeping the cattle prod tightly gripped in his hands.

"It wasn't me. It wasn't me," he said, shaking his head as he looked at the body bag. "It wasn't me," he repeated. "Okay, it wasn't you," Barclay said. "I've been locked in my green room all day, even when the lights went out. I only left once, to use the bathroom, after the lights came back on. It wasn't me," Walters said shakily.

"Alright. I believe you," Barclay said in a calm and reassuring manner. "Just... stay there and hold that prod," Barclay said. Walters nodded his head and drew a shaky breath. "Where's Kinner?" Hendry asked. "Dutt? What about Kinner?" Barclay asked the engineer. "He's locked himself in the kitchen. He won't leave," Dutton replied.

"I'll get him out of there," Hendry said as he walked over to the doorway. Walters stepped back fearfully, causing the man to raise his eyebrows at the frightened scientist. "I ain't gonna hurt ya," Hendry said to him. Walters merely nodded his head silently while gripping his cattle prod.

"Hendry, let's just go get Kinner," Barclay said, not noticing how the older man had reach down to grab his revolver. "I'll go too," Stiles said, making his way over to Barclay and Hendry's side as they left the room. "Dutton, you're in charge until we get back. Start taking statements," Barclay said as he followed Stiles and Hendry out of the room.

The three men quickly made a left turn at the corner of the lab before marching down the hallway and taking another left turn to get to the kitchen. "So, who do you think did it?" Stiles asked Barclay as they made their way to the front door of the kitchen. "Don't know yet. Not enough evidence," Barclay said.

"Bullshit. It's either Kinner or Walters," Hendry spat. Barclay looked over at the older man in bewilderment. "What?" Barclay asked him skeptically. "Come on, Bar. Both men have been alone the longest today, and neither of them were with us when the lights went out. It's gotta be one of them, and Kinner knows how to tie thin ropes and wires; he does it for food all the time," Hendry said. "He knows how to use gloves to keep things uncontaminated. I'll bet ya it's him," Hendry said, slightly unnerved.

Barclay soon turned to knock on the kitchen door. "Kinner? Are you in there?" Barclay asked. " _I'm here. What do you want?_ " Kinner asked them nervously. "We just wanna talk. I just wanna know where you were when the lights went out, and in the hour before then," Barclay said. " _I was in here! I didn't kill anyone!_ " Kinner shouted hysterically.

"He's lying," Hendry whispered, unconvinced, his eyes twitching. Barclay finally noticed that Hendry's right hand was gripped around his revolver and its holster. "Charles, leave that alone," Barclay said, glancing down at the gun. "I'll only use it if I have to," Hendry said. Barclay looked over at Stiles before glancing at the doorway to the dining room.

"Stiles, take off your shoes and go around through the dining room," Barclay whispered. "What, why?" Stiles asked him quietly. "What do you mean 'why'? There's a door to the kitchen in there. See if it's opened or at least unlocked," Barclay whispered. "But why do I need to take off my shoes?" Stiles asked. "You'll make less noise. If he hears you, then he might lock that door too if he hasn't already. It's our best shot," Barclay explained quietly. "Right," Stiles said before quietly walking away and heading for the dining room.

He then turned his attention back to the kitchen door. " Okay, Kinner. I just want you to open this door for us so that we can talk face to face. Can you do that?" Barclay asked. " _It wasn't me! You gotta believe me! I didn't do it!_ " the cook whined. "Okay, but I still need you to open the door and talk to us. We just want to talk. That's all we want," Barclay said, doing his best to stay calm under the duress of the situation.

" _How can I trust you!? How do I know I'm not next!?_ " Kinner asked hysterically. "Oh, for God's sake!" Hendry spat, his patience having run out. "Kinner, either you open this dor right now, or I'm gonna blow a hole in it! Do you understand that!?" Hendry snapped loudly, pulling his revolver out of its holster, alarming Barclay.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Barclay hissed at Hendry. "He knows we've got 'im. He knows that he's fucked. He did it, and he knows that we're onto him," Hendry said. "Hendry, stand down," Barclay said firmly. "I outrank you," Hendry retorted with a frown. "I don't care," Barclay said. "Bar, do not make me pull rank again. You might take charge most of the time, but _I_ am the senior officer here," Hendry said.

"That doesn't matter anymore. You're pulling a gun on an unarmed civilian, Hendry," Barclay retorted. "This door's about two inches thick and made of metal and rubber, Bar. Shooting through it won't kill him," Hendry said. "I'm not taking that risk," Barclay said.

"Now, stand down," Barclay said firmly. Hendry locked gazes with him, both men unwilling to concede to the other. Beads of sweat began to roll down Hendry's head as his paranoia grew. "You're one of them, aren't you?" Hendry asked with a snarl. "What?" Barclay asked him in disbelief. "That's why you won't do what's necessary. You're protecting the others," Hendry hissed as he slowly raised his gun to aim it at Barclay.

"Hendry, don't do this. You know that I'm human, just you are. We're both human, so stop this madness right now," Barclay said sternly, not believing what Hendry was saying. Hendry started sweating profusely as he became increasingly paranoid. "I want to believe you, Bar. I really do, but after what happened to Thorne? I can't risk being next. Kinner and Walters are always alone. They're perfect victims, and everyone goes to you for help. That's how you got them, isn't it?" Hendry asked, his voice cracking as his arm began to shake in fear, neither man noticing Stiles returning from the dining room behind them.

"Hendry, you know that isn't true. Now, put down the-" "Guys, the door is-" BAM! Hendry quickly spun to aim his gun at Stiles and fired, hitting the meteorologist in the arm. "Aah!" Stiles cried out in shock and pain as he fell back to the ground, gripping his bleeding arm.

Barclay quickly grabbed Hendry's arm before he fired again, hitting the floor and causing the bullet to ricochet briefly before embedding itself in a piece of furniture in the open doorway of the rec room not too far away. Pulling Hendry against the wall, Barclay slammed the older man's arm into the wall, forcing him to drop the gun before he grabbed Hendry by his shirt, raised his arm and sent a fist into the man's face.

Hendry stumbled back before Barclay launched himself forward and tackled him to the ground near Stiles. "Doc! Dutton! Someone get over here!" Barclay shouted as he subdued Hendry, pushing him onto his stomach and bringing his arms behind his back to secure them. Barclay quickly glanced over at Stiles, who was hissing in pain as he gripped the spot in his arm where he had been shot. " ** _Doc! Dutton!_** "

* * *

 **The Dorms, Ninety Minutes Later...**

Barclay stuffed one more knife into the burlap sack before tying it shut and carrying it out of the room. Inside, Atkins was busy injecting Hendry with a sedative, while Ralsen and Silva were checking for any hidden tools or weapons. Dutton was busy replacing the door handle and lock with a different one that locked from the outside. "Why don't we throw him in the green room?" Ralsen suggested. "Why would we do that?" Barclay asked him.

"Well, Walters would be able to keep an eye on him, since he's always in there," Ralsen explained. "Yeah, but I'd rather not take the chance of him being able to hide when we check up on him," Barclay said. "Yeah. And _I'm_ almost finished replacing this door lock. I'd rather not have all this work be for nothing," Dutton said, adding his two cents worth.

"Why am I in here?" Hendry asked despondently. "You shot Stiles," Barclay said. "It was an accident. I don't think he's a monster. I know that he's human," Hendry said. "You tried to kill me and Kinner," Barclay added darkly. "I was scared. I... I'm still scared," Hendry said as he laid back on the bed. "It's okay to be scared, Hendry. I don't blame you, but I can't trust you to be in charge from this point," Barclay said.

"I never _was_ ," Hendry replied solemnly after a minute, while Atkins packed up his equipment and made his way over to the door. Barclay frowned before giving Hendry a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Charles. I'll have someone come around to escort you to the bathrooms every few hours," Barclay said.

"Thanks," Hendry said sardonically. "Done," Dutton said as he stood up and collected his tools and the old door lock and handle. "When we find a way to prove who's human, you'll be let back with the others. Until then, just... try to take it easy," Barclay said as he turned around to leave once more, following Dutton, Ralsen, and Silva. "Bar," Hendry said as he craned his neck to look at the younger man.

"Yeah?" Barclay asked him. "Tell Stiles... I'm sorry," Hendry said forlornly. "I'll do that," Barclay said before closing the door behind him and locking it. Barclay then turned around to look at the four men standing in the hall with him. "The key to this lock stays with me, except when I give it to whoever escorts him to the bathroom. It is to be returned to me as soon as Hendry is back in his room, understand?" Barclay said as he held the key in front of them.

"Am I clear?" he asked. "Crystal," Ralsen said. "Good. Now... let's find out who killed Thorne."

* * *

Author's Notes: And here is the ninth chapter of the story. Yeah, I know it took a while before posting this, but I was busy finishing my Zootopia story, The Good, The Bad, & The Evil. I had originally planned to work on both stories side-by-side, but I soon found that it was increasingly difficult to concentrate on either story enough to actually finish any chapters on time, so I just went for the Zootopia story full-forward. That being said, I'm back.

Now, I know what you're thinking: Anguirus, you're copying parts of John Carpenter's film now, with the death of someone who's working on a test to prove who's human, and having someone go crazy with a gun before getting locked up!

Well... I won't deny that, but notice how these events take place in a different order from the film! See, it's different... enough, I guess. Anyway, the next chapter will see more Thing action, but no clobbering time, though. As always, be sure to let me know what you think of the chapter in your reviews.


	10. Dog Day Afternoon

**THE THING II: Hawke Station**

Disclaimer: John Carpenter's THE THING is property of Universal.

This chapter was written while listening to the soundtracks for _John Carpenter's THE THING_ (1982) by Ennio Morricone, John Carpenter, and Alan Howarth; _Die Hard 2: Die Harder_ (1990) by the late Michael Kamen; and _ALIEN_ (1979) by the late Jerry Goldsmith. Music tracks from each film are as follows:

Shape - _THE THING_ , The Shaft - _ALIEN_ , Parker's Death - _ALIEN_ , Bestiality - _THE THING_ , Burn It - _THE THING_ , The Runway - _Die Hard 2_ , Icicle - _Die Hard 2_ , and Snowmobiles - _Die Hard 2_.

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Dog Day Afternoon**

* * *

Date: Winter of 1982 - 1983

 **United States Antarctic Research Outpost "Hawke Station"**

Inside the rec room, each man eyed the other nervously. Stiles glanced over at Walters, who was still holding his cattle prod tightly to himself as he eyed everyone else in the room. Kinner, who had finally been coaxed out of the kitchen, sat on the floor, looking around at everyone else suspiciously. Van Wall and Harvey had both been ordered by Barclay to head outside and secure the helicopters as preparation for the oncoming storm. Connant and Carrington had both been given permission to be in the lab as they helped Atkins continue Thorne's work.

Unfortunately, most of Thorne's papers notes had been destroyed by whoever had killed him, leaving everyone in the station fearful and paranoid of who they could trust. There was no doubt in anybody's mind now that there was an imposter among them, and while the number of imposters was debatable, every single man in the station suspected the man next to him of being a monster. Nobody wanted to be too close anybody, and Connant and Carrington's efforts were yielding no results thus far.

"So, we have until tomorrow evening before the storm hits us," Silva said to Barclay as he ate a can of green beans. "I'll make sure that the dogs are taken out before then," Pomroy said tiredly as he sat cross-legged on the floor. Over at the pool table, Ralsen and Dutton were playing cards, before Ralsen folded and gave up.

"Fuck it. I can't take this," Ralsen said angrily. "Until Doc and the others can find a test, we're all confined to the station," Barclay said. "I get _that_ ," Ralsen said. "I meant I can't take the boredom. There's gotta be something we can do to pass the time without... endangering ourselves," Ralsen said.

"You wanna wheel a TV in here and put on a movie? Wanna borrow Walter's DiscoVision machine, or my VCR?" Barclay suggested. "Well... sure. I mean, why not?" Ralsen replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Which will it be?" Barclay asked, looking over at Walters. "Huh?" Walters asked after finally noticing Barclay looking at him.

"Walters, may we bring your DiscoVision machine in here so that we can watch a movie or two? To pass the time safely?" Barclay asked him. "Uh... s-sure," Walters said, hesitantly nodding his head. "What movies do we have on that system?" Stiles asked from his spot on the couch where he was reading the same issue of Playboy for the twelfth time in a row.

"We got... I think we've got Star Wars on tape, and Alien," Ralsen said. "We got Flash Gordon on that disc thing, I think," Walters said with some uncertainty. "Is that the movie with music by Queen?" Silva asked him. "Uh, I think so," Walters replied. "Alright, let's go see what we've got," Barclay said as he walked over to the exit. "Ralsen, Walters... I'd appreciate your assistance in gathering the movies and devices," Barclay said.

"Okay," Walters said reluctantly, while Ralsen merely sighed in response.

 **One Hour Later...**

After retrieving a large TV and wheeling it into the rec room on a cart, alongside the LaserDisc player and VCR, Barclay and Ralsen had retrieved a large selection of tapes and video discs for the crew to watch together. The movies had been carefully deposited on the pool table before everyone began sorting through them. The selection, while not great, offered a small amount of variety.

In the time that the trio had been retrieving their goods, Harvey and Van Wall had returned from their duties securing the helicopters. They immediately joined in with sorting through the selection of films on the table. "Hey, we've got some documentaries... on rocks... and volcanoes," Van Wall said in a disappointed tone as he held up the tapes.

"We've got The Shining?" Dutton asked as he saw the movie on the table. "Uh... let's not watch that one," Crenna said. "Yeah, I'm with Crenna. Given our current situation... that one might not be the best," Barclay said. "Hey, we _do_ have Flash Gordon," Silva said as he held up the movie by its sleeve.

"We got Star Wars as well," Crenna said as he held up the tape. "Who wants to watch Star Wars?" Barclay asked. Almost everyone raised their hands. "Okay, that's the first pick," Barclay said. "Ooh, Jaws," Caldwell said as he saw the LaserDisc title on the table.

"Yeah, let's watch a movie that takes place at a warm summer beach, reminding us of where we _aren't_ ," Ralsen snarked bitterly. "Hey, Ralsen? Do you mind _not_ being an asshole?" Sanchez asked him. "Bite me," Ralsen retorted.

"Settle down," Crenna said sternly. "Yes, gramps," Ralsen said indignantly. "Ralsen, seriously. You're being an asshole. Knock it off," Barclay said firmly. "Hey, Debbie Does Dallas," Caldwell said. Everyone turned their head in his direction. "Uh... just kidding," he said. "Dammit, man. You got my hopes up," Stiles said in disappointment.

"Sorry," Caldwell muttered in apology. "What time is it?" Silva asked. "It's seven-I mean, nineteen, or seven... uh... nineteen hundred?" Sanchez said hesitantly. "Yeah, that's right," Barclay said as he checked his watch. "We've got enough time," he added after looking over at the windows and seeing the dark sky outside.

The men soon set up the VCR and TV, with Ralsen checking both machines to make sure that there would be no problems with playback. "And in a galaxy far, far away... someone's having a better week than we are," Ralsen muttered as he turned on the TV and the VCR. "Okay, let's distract ourselves from our paranoia," he said before inserting the tape into the VCR. He quickly made his way over to the light switches.

"Hey, should we turn the lights off?" Ralsen asked. Everyone glanced uneasily at each other for a minute, wondering if having the lights off would be a safe course of action. "Uh... turn one set off, and leave the others on," Barclay said reluctantly.

"Okay," Ralsen said before hitting one switch. He quickly made his way over to the rest of the group and settled in for two hours of temporary relief from terror and nightmares. As the movie played, however, not everyone was able to lose themselves in the space opera, with some men occasionally glancing around and making sure that everyone else's limbs were kept to themselves. Occasionally, Silva would glance around and listen for odd noises before returning his attention to the TV, while Walters constantly sat as far away from everyone as possible, still gripping his cattle prod tightly.

Even with the grand spectacle in front of them, none of the humans in Hawke Station were able to truly ignore the grim reality of their situation, especially when they remembered which of their comrades would never be around to watch it with them again.

* * *

 **DAY 09**

* * *

Standing outside in the snow, Pomroy waited for the sled dogs to finish relieving themselves in a location only a few meters away from the entrance to the kennel. The sound of boots crunching in the snow drew his attention. "Pomroy," Barclay said as he approached him.

"Hey, Bar," Pomroy said before looking away, taking in the sight of the tarp-covered helicopters and the open doors of the vehicle garage where Ralsen was parking one of the thiokols. "We're gonna get hit this afternoon by the storm. Make sure the dogs go one last time before it hits us," Barclay said. "I know. I know," Pomroy replied, nodding his head.

"How's Hendry doing?" Pomroy asked Barclay. "He's calmed down," Barclay said, sighing. "Is he still dangerous?" Pomroy asked him. "I don't know," Barclay said quietly. He looked out over at the dogs as they went about their business in the snow, before running around and playing with each other.

"Did Silva or Stiles say how long this one is gonna last?" Pomroy asked as he looked out at the sky. "Probably two or three days," Barclay said. "Are the docs any closer to coming up with something?" Pomroy asked. "No," Barclay said, shaking his head.

"If it's okay, I think I'll stay with the dogs for most of the time until they figure something out," Pomroy said. "That's fine. Just make sure to let me or someone else know when and how long you'll be in the kennel area. And keep a cattle prod with you, just in case," Barclay said, not noticing how one of the dogs was staring at him intently, before it finally diverted its attention elsewhere.

 **The Recreation Room**

"That's the wrong cable," Sanchez said. "I know what I'm doing," Dutton retorted as he disconnected the wires from the VCR. "Come on, man. Just leave it hooked up the way it is," Sanchez said in protest. Dutton sighed in agitation at Sanchez's whining. "I'm just gonna test this Disco-thing to make sure that it works. That's all I'm doing. I'll hook the VCR right back up after I'm done," Dutton said.

"Fine," Sanchez said. "But if that TV doesn't work later, I'm gonna make sure that everyone knows whose fault it is," Sanchez said. "Yeah, shouldn't you be in the radio room with Caldwell right now?" Dutton asked him. Sanchez shook his head and sighed in consternation before walking away.

 **The Dining Room**

Kinner sat in a chair at the main table and leaned back before looking down at the can of minestrone soup in front of him. He looked back up over at the doorway to the kitchen, where his services were no longer needed or allowed until a test could be devised to prove who was or wasn't human. Looking back down at the can of soup, Kinner picked up a spoon and began slowly eating it.

 **The Radio Room, One Hour Later...**

"Look, what exactly do you want me to tell them?" Caldwell asked Barclay. "Just tell them that we'll be silent once the storm hits us. We've only got a few hours before the atmospheric conditions start playing havoc with the radio equipment outside, right?" Barclay responded as he leaned back against the door frame.

"Less than that, and what about our situation? Bar, three of our own are dead, not to mention Outpost Thirty-One, that Norwegian camp, and the Soviet station," Caldwell said. "He's right, Bar. We can't keep quiet on this very long. Someone's going to investigate one of those places when contact is lost, especially the Soviet station," Sanchez said.

"And when someone sees that their helicopter is missing and that _we_ have it here, what do you think is going to happen?" Caldwell asked him. "Someone will jump to conclusions," Barclay said. "Yes. We have to tell them _something_ , Bar," Caldwell said.

"Tell them that... there's been an outbreak. Whatever the Norwegians found in the ice managed to spread to the Soviet station, and by the time we arrived to help, it was too late," Barclay said. "Bar, we have pictures of the space ship. We still have that charred alien body," Caldwell said.

"What!?" Barclay asked in alarm. "That alien body that Carrington brought back. He's still got it locked away in one of the storage rooms," Caldwell said. "I thought it was destroyed. Didn't I order all of those things' remains to be taken outside when I burned them?" Barclay asked.

"Carrington tested it, Bar. It's dead. He's tested the samples from it. It's not gonna come back to life like the others," Caldwell said. "And Carrington is _positive_ about this?" Barclay asked him.

"Yes. Absolutely. Besides, we're going to need that body to prove our story when we finally tell people what happened here," Caldwell said in response. Barclay tilted his head back against the door frame and sighed. "Fine. We'll keep that one. For now... just contact McMurdo and tell them that we'll be getting hit by that storm soon. Let them know that we won't be able to make radio contact once it hits us. I don't want them sending anyone over here until we've found out who's still human," Barclay said.

"You got it," Caldwell said before grabbing his headset and microphone to call McMurdo Station. Barclay slowly turned around and made his way towards the rec room. He paused and glanced over at the door to the green house. Even though he had stayed with the group to watch Star Wars the previous night, Walters had once again locked himself inside the green house, only coming out to use the bathroom, when Barclay would call everyone to meet up in the recreation room, or when going to his dorm room to sleep at night, following Barclay's example and orders to use duct tape to seal the gaps between the door and the floor and walls.

Turning away and continuing his trek to the rec room, Barclay decided to change course and headed for the medical lab, occasionally looking over his shoulder after hearing foot steps behind him now and then. Pausing one last time, Barclay listened as the foot steps stopped, turning around seeing Kinner pausing outside the door to the kitchen. "Is something wrong?" Kinner asked him.

"No. Nothing," Barclay said. Kinner quietly nodded his head before opening the door and disappearing into the kitchen. Barclay quickly resumed his trek to the lab, stopping just outside the doorway before peeking in to see Atkins, Carrington, and Connant all gathered around a lab table where they had several papers strewn about.

"You guys have a computer system sitting over there," Barclay said as he pointed to a recently donated machine that had been set up in the corner of the lab. "It isn't working. I went to turn it on this morning, but nothing happened," Connant said. "Is it plugged into a power outlet?" Barclay asked. "Yes. Yes, it is. I had Dutton open it up for me earlier, but... he said that certain components were missing when he looked inside," Connant replied.

"Oh," Barclay said. "And we have no idea when this little act of sabotage occurred either, because none of us have thought to use the damn machine until now," Carrington spat. "Well... anyway, have you guys come up with anything yet?" Barclay asked, steering the conversation away from the computer system.

"No. Nothing yet. One of Thorne's surviving notes mentioned the... _Thing's_ ability to infect at a cellular level being something to focus on, but we have no clue where to start. If we had any trustworthy blood left, we might have something to work with," Carrington replied bitterly. "I see. Oh, Carrington?" Barclay asked.

"Yes?" Carrington replied. "How secure is that alien corpse in the storage room?" Barclay asked him knowingly. "Oh. Well... it's dead. Completely dead, Bar. I'm positive. I took some samples of it prior to the incident with the blood and tested those samples. It's not coming back to life, if that's what you're worried about," Carrington replied. "I want you to check on it with someone tonight before going to bed. Make sure that it's in the same place tomorrow morning," Barclay said.

"Of course," Carrington said, nodding his head. "Now, I'm gonna go escort Hendry to the bathroom before checking on everyone else. We'll be gathered in the rec room in a few hours, watching movies until it's time for shut-eye. Tonight's movie is probably gonna be Jaws," Barclay said. "I think I'll pass," Carrington said, having never been a fan of horror movies.

"Hn. Jaws. Because we all aren't scared enough as it is," Connant muttered in distaste. "Well, come up with something before the storm ends and I'll let one of you guys pick a movie," Barclay said. "Storm?" Atkins asked. "Oh, right! The, uh, storm that Stiles mentioned," he said in embarrassment. Carrington raised an eyebrow at Atkins before returning his attention to his papers.

"I'll be back later," Barclay said before leaving the lab and heading for the dorms.

* * *

 **The Recreation Room, Later That Evening...**

As the sky outside became dark and the snow began to fall, the men of Hawke Station had once again gathered inside the recreation room. "Okay, who wants Jaws?" Barclay asked the group, observing how Atkins, having taken a break to clear his head, was now amongst the group. Of the fourteen men in front of him, nine raised their hands. "Majority vote is the shark movie," Barclay noted as he took the disc out of its sleeve.

"Hey, Walters, why exactly do you have a horror movie in your video collection?" Stiles asked, noting that most of Walters' Laserdisc titles were documentaries. "I ordered it by mistake over the phone," Walters replied curtly. "Mistake?" Ralsen asked skeptically. "I was asking for the shark documentary that was said to have been viewed by the filmmakers when making the movie. The lady on the phone mistook that as a request for the movie itself," Walters explained.

Sanchez snickered as he listened to Walters' story. "Sucker," he said quietly. "Okay, this little button means 'PLAY' and this little button means 'PAUSE'," Barclay said to himself as he looked at the remote control that Walters had brought out of his room. "This one is... reverse? And this one is... fast forward," he muttered as he looked over the other buttons on the remote. "And these arrows are... Walters, what exactly are these little arrows on here for?" Barclay asked the botanist.

"They're directional buttons, for navigating the disc menu," Walters replied. "Menu? It doesn't just play on its own?" Barclay asked, being very unfamiliar with the laserdisc technology. "It's interactive," Walters explained. "Oh," Barclay said. Ralsen snickered at Barclay's inexperience with the home video technology in front of him.

"Are you telling me that the military doesn't have advanced video technology like this?" Ralsen asked him. Barclay glared at Ralsen. "That's classified," Barclay retorted, unwilling to give Ralsen an actual response. "That's just sad," Ralsen muttered with a smirk.

"Well, I'm gonna go feed the dogs while you get this figured out. I'll be back in about ten to fifteen minutes," Pomroy said, getting up from the couch. "Take your time," Ralsen said to him. "Captain Barclay probably won't have this figured out until Spring arrives," he added with a snicker. "Ralsen, shut up," Barclay said, sending a glare towards the mechanic.

Pomroy chuckled lightly at the banter before exiting the room and making his way down the hall. Taking a left turn, Pomroy entered the left-side visitor lobby near the right entrances before entering the kennel hallway, which also doubled as a storage hallway. Dog food, sled equipment, and other supplies for the animals were kept along this hall.

Pomroy briefly stopped at an opened crate with bags of specialized dog food before remembering that there were still two unopened bags up near the kennel itself, along with an already opened one that hadn't been emptied yet. Making his way over to the steps that led up to the kennel, Pomroy stopped and noticed and turned on the lights for the kennel area.

"Okay, boys. One last meal for the night," Pomroy said as he made his way up the short stairs and taking a right turn down the small kennel storage and supply area, which was basically a tiny hall with several more boxes of supplies lining it. Grabbing the dogs' bowls and a bag of food, Pomroy placed each bowl on a small cart nearby and filled them up using a measuring cup.

When he was finished, he wheeled the cart over to the gate of the kennel and unlocked the door. "Okay, who's hungry?" Pomroy asked as he looked at the Malamutes and Siberian Huskies laying inside. Jake and Vince, two Alaskan Malamutes, both looked up at him with expectant expressions as they saw the cart and food bowls. Morris, another Siberian Husky, quickly stood up and slowly wagged his tail in anticipation.

Pomroy looked at the other five dogs, all of whom seemed to be slightly disinterested in the food. "Sykes? Hoskins? Cole? You guys are normally the first ones to greet me at meal time," Pomroy said. Said Siberian Huskies both glanced over at him before looking over at Cole and Colin, two Alaskan Malamutes. Sitting up in the back, Sid, the final Siberian Husky, glanced over at Cole as well. The dog merely raised his eyebrows at the others in response. Soon, all of the dogs were watching as Pomroy began taking the bowls off of the cart and making his way towards them with their food.

 **Back In The Rec Room...**

"Shit, what did I do?" Barclay asked rhetorically as he tried pushing various buttons on the remote. The TV screen was blue with a small white square in the top corner. "Dude, you stopped the movie," Stiles said. "I was just going to pause it until Pomroy got back. Besides, you told me that this thing would have a menu before the movie started playing," Barclay replied as he glared at Ralsen. Ralsen snickered at his technological illiteracy. "This is just too good," Ralsen said with a grin. "Well, maybe you'd like to show us how it's done, _Mister Wizard_ ," Barclay said as he tilted his head to look at Ralsen.

Barclay sighed in annoyance and glared at the mechanic. "Ralsen, shut the fuck up." Dutton began chuckling as well. "Oh, not you too, Dutt," Barclay said in dismay. "I'm sorry, but he's right. How did you ever pass basic training when you don't even know how to use a remote control?" Dutton asked in response.

"Well, I know that if I shove it down your throat, you'll choke to death," Barclay said with a glare. "Come on, fellas. Just calm down," Crenna said from his chair.

"Here," Barclay said as he handed the remote to Ralsen. "What? Giving up already?" Ralsen asked him smarmily. "Just... make the movie play," Barclay said with a frustrated sigh. "Pfft, whiner," Ralsen muttered in amusement before selecting the PLAY button.

Well, I'm so sorry for not knowing how to use this piece of junk," Barclay retorted. Atkins sighed in dismay. "Something wrong, Doc?" Sanchez asked him. "Oh, I just thought that maybe relaxing a bit out here would help me in figuring out a new test," Atkins said. "Well, has it?" Dutton asked him.

"No. Listening to everyone bicker and argue is just making it harder for me to think of anything. Look, I'm just gonna go back to the lab and see what Connant and Carrington have come up with in my absence," Atkins said as he stood up. "You guys _still_ haven't thought of something?" Ralsen asked in disbelief.

"Jesus. At this rate, we might as well just go with that plan to let the dogs find out who's human or not," Silva said. "Oh, please. We've already discussed this," Caldwell said. "I don't know, Vic. Dogs have some sharp noses, and there isn't a man in this room who hasn't been bitten or had blood drawn by those animals at some point," Ralsen said with a hint of humor in his voice, not really taking his own words seriously. Van Wall nodded his head in agreement.

Barclay, however, soon raised an eyebrow as he processed Ralsen's words. "Wait a minute..." Barclay said, trailing off in thought. "Something on your mind?" Crenna asked him as he noticed Barclay's expression. "Yeah. The dogs. This whole time; maybe we can use them," Barclay said in response. "Uh, Bar? Wasn't it already explained to us that the dogs wouldn't be able to tell who's an imitation?" Stiles asked.

"That's not what I mean," Barclay said. Ralsen quickly paused the movie and gave his attention to Barclay. "Alright, what exactly do you have in mind? Wanna letthe dogs bite us and see who transforms to defend themselves?" Ralsen asked him snarkily. "Ralsen, shut the fuck up," Silva said.

"No, Ben," Barclay said to Ralsen. "I just figured out a new blood test," he added as he looked around the room. "Huh?" Caldwell asked him. "The dogs are still dogs, right? We can use their blood for a new serum test," Barclay explained. "How the hell would _that_ work?" Harvey asked him skeptically. "Wait a minute," Atkins said thoughtfully. "I think you're onto something," he added.

"Yeah. Normal human blood and normal dog blood won't mix well, but the blood from an imitation would try to assimilate it," Barclay explained. "We take blood from one of the dogs, and we go person by person to see who's human and who isn't," Barclay finished. "It could work. No, it _should_ work," Atkins said with a grin.

"Atkins, go get Connant and Carrington. Get some sterile equipment prepped. I'm gonna go get Pomroy and have him get the dogs ready," Barclay said before leaving the room. Atkins quickly exited the room as well and made his way to the lab while Barclay entered the kennel hall, jogging over to the steps. When he arrived, Pomroy was watching the dogs eat their food as he stood next to the cart.

"Hey, Bar. What's going on?" Pomroy asked him. "We have a new blood test," Barclay said. Five of the dogs' ears twitched and their slyly glanced over in Barclay's direction as they listened to him speak.

"What kind of test?" Pomroy asked him. "A blood serum test. We're going to use the dogs' blood to find out who's human," Barclay explained to him. "The dogs?" Pomroy asked him.

"Yeah. I mean, they aren't infected, right?" Barclay asked him. "I don't think so. I've been around them just about every day since that Thing attacked Reynolds," Pomroy replied. "Okay. Doc's in the lab with the others right now, getting the gear ready. I'm gonna go check on their progress, and then we'll come back here and draw the dogs' blood," Barclay said. "I'll get the dogs ready," Pomroy said, nodding his head before Barclay turned around and left the kennel.

Turning back to face the dogs with a sigh, Pomroy shook his head. "Well, sorry boys. Looks like you've got yourselves a visit from the doctor," Pomroy said as he made his way over to the short hall where the supplies were located. He quickly began gathering leashes and muzzles, along with veterinarian supplies.

After a few quick trips back and forth, Pomroy had deposited the veterinary equipment and leashes and muzzles on the outer perimeter of the kennel, along with several harnesses. Making his way into the kennel, Pomroy began retrieving the dogs' food bowls. "See? I knew you guys were hungry," Pomroy said after seeing that each bowl was empty.

As he collected the bowls, Cole, the alpha of the pack, subtly looked over at Sid. Cole nodded his head, prompting Sid to quietly stand up and slowly begin walking alongside the inner perimeter of the kennel, carefully and intently making his way to the door. Cole then look over at Colin and Sykes, nodding his head before he got up himself and made his way to the door, quietly following Sid as he slipped between the door and the cart.

The two dogs then pushed the cart out of the way before closing the door of the kennel and pushing the lock in place. "What the?" Pomroy asked as he saw the two dogs leering at him from outside the kennel. "Cole? Sid? What are you guys doing out there?" Pomroy asked as he walked over to the door and tried to open it, only for Sykes and Colin to dart over in front of him and snarl.

"Hey, hey! Stand down. Sykes. Stand. Down," Pomroy said firmly. Behind Pomroy, Jake, Morris, and Vince both stood up and began growling at the other dogs. "Everyone calm down!" Pomroy said as he looked around. Outside, Cole and Sid both began walking away, heading down the outer hall towards the exit.

Back inside the kennel, Jake, Vince, and Morris had formed a protective circle around Pomroy as the other dogs circled them. Pomroy began to feel very uneasy, as this was not normal behavior for his dogs. He soon heard a heavy breathing sound and looked over at Colin, who was panting while... smiling at him.

"Colin?" Pomroy asked before he saw the liquid dripping from the dog's mouth onto the floor. "Are you okay, boy?" Pomroy asked as the pit in his stomach began to grow. He looked over at Sykes and Hoskins, both whom were also staring with wide eyes at him and the other three dogs. The lips of the dogs soon began to curl, as though they were smiling, before the animals began to shiver. The shivering soon turned into shaking, and then the three normal dogs became even more agitated.

Pomroy watch in bile fascination and horror as Sykes' lips soon peeled back all the way, before the flesh of his lower jaw split open, letting the bone fall to the ground. "Jesus Christ!" Pomroy exclaimed as he backed up. Jake, Morris, and Vince were all barking like mad at the transforming beasts surrounding them. "Bar! Dutton! Doc! Someone! Help!" Pomroy called out as loud as he could. " _ **Bar! Bar!**_ " he called out again.

Spidery legs soon sprouted from the torsos of Sykes and Colin, while Hoskins stepped up on two legs as his front limbs cracked and bled. The dog's eyes were now bright green in color, and a terrible hiss emanated from its maw as its fur began melting and its hind legs began to shift in shape. A ripping sound was heard as tendrils sprouted from the back of the animal and latched onto the rafters above.

Dozens of worm-like tendrils began sprouting from the other dogs, and they opened their maws to begin spraying some unknown substance at Pomroy and the other dogs. "Bar! Bar-gaahh!" Pomroy cried out as the liquid hit him in the face. Pomroy stumbled back and fell to the floor, before Hoskins moved forward and fell on top of him. "Ahh! No, no!" Pomroy cried out as he tried to push the bloody beast off of him. Tendrils soon began flowing out of the abomination and wrapping around him, coiling around his limbs and ripping apart his clothes.

* * *

As Barclay helped Atkins and Connant load syringes and petri dishes into a safe travel case to put on one of the medical carts, the sound of barking echoed through the halls. " _Bar! Dutton! Doc! Someone, help!_ " Barclay and the others stopped what they were doing as the howling and barking grew louder, and Pomroy's shouts grew more panicked and terrified.

"What the hell?" Connant asked. Barclay's eyes suddenly grew wide as he realized what was transpiring. "The dogs..." Barclay whispered before running out of the room and making a B-line to the winter gear closet. He quickly stepped inside and grabbed a flamethrower, checking it to make sure that it was full before strapping the harness onto himself and prepping the hose and nozzle.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Barclay hissed as he realized his blunder. _We never checked the dogs. We never thought to make sure that they weren't infected! This whole fucking plan was a waste!_

Pomroy's cries grew louder, as did those of the dogs, which soon became sharp and pained before growing silent. The feeling of dread in Barclay's stomach grew stronger as he rushed out of the room before stopping by the fire alarm. Acting quickly, he pulled the alarm, alerting the other men to the danger. He watched as Dutton and Stiles both exited the rec room down the hall.

"Bar, what's going on!? Where's the fire!?" Caldwell asked in panic as he ran out of the rec room. "It's the dogs! It's the dogs!" Barclay cried out before running into the interior kennel hall. When the men saw the flamethrower strapped to his back, they began to understand his meaning.

As Barclay made his way over to the steps, he almost tripped before grabbing onto the crude railing and hoisting himself back up, quickly rushing into the hall and turning the corner. "Just hold on, Marvin!" Barclay shouted as he ran in front of the gate to the kennel. "Mar..." Barclay's words died in his throat as he saw the horrid sight in front of him.

Marvin Pomroy had been fused to the underside of one of the dog Things, while the other dogs were in the process of being absorbed by the other beasts. Blood, bone, flesh and tendrils filled the kennel, with one mass of flesh and eyes, with spidery legs, turned its malformed dog-head to look at Barclay. The abomination let out a horrible screech as several dozen tentacles began emerging from its underside, and the arachnid legs lifted the Thing up as it positioned itself to face Barclay.

"Bar! Bar! We're coming!" Silva shouted as he and Van Wall entered the kennel hall, carrying a flamethrower and a fire axe, respectively. "Dear... _God!_ " Silva muttered in disgust and awe as he saw the monstrosities that inhabited the kennel. The Thing that had once been Colin turned to let loose another hideous screech, unearthly and yet carrying a faint trace of of man's vocie combined with the howls of a dog.

Barclay tilted his gaze down when he heard the gate being opened, and looked down to see several tendrils wrapping themselves around the wooden board to move it out of the way, while also pushing the cart away as well. "Son of a bitch," Barclay muttered as he aimed his flamethrower at the tentacles and stepped back before letting a brief stream of flame engulf them.

A raspy breathing sound soon caught Barclay's attention, and he turned to see Pomroy, or what was left of him, looking at him with terrified eyes. His one arm was reaching out, fused with the flesh of the Thing, but sending a clear message of desperation. As Barclay aimed his flamethrower, the Colin-Thing charged, ramming into the kennel door. "Shit!" Barclay exclaimed as he backed into the wall. He heard foot steps and looked over to see the rest of the men entering the hall, with Ralsen and Stiles carrying fire extinguishers.

The creature let loose another howl, this time with a warning tone in it as it snarled. The bright green eyes of the beast glowed as goo dripped from its maw. Barclay aimed his flamethrower up and sent a stream of fire at the beast, sending it back in fear. "That's right! Fuck you!" Barclay roared angrily as he stepped forward and opened the gate before sending blast after blast of fire at the Things in the room. He quickly stepped back to allow Silva room.

Silva aimed his flamethrower at the Thing that had once been Sykes, which was now fused with Jake and Vince, with two twisted dog heads screeching, as Vince's still un-assimilated head let out a pained whine as the fire overtook the rest of its now deformed body. "I'm sorry," Silva whispered tearfully as the fire engulfed the dog. Silva sent another blast at it, trying to drown out the sound of the dog's whines.

Barclay soon pushed Silva back and sent fire at the Colin-Thing as it tried to rush him again. The beast was completely on fire now, and its horrific wailing pained everyone's ears as each blast of flame caused the volume of the wail to increase. "Just die already!" Barclay shouted at the Thing.

The Thing's neck soon split apart as it fell to the ground, with each split end having rows of teeth lining it. The dog head now hung limply from the one end, before Barclay sent another blast of fire at it, engulfing the monster. Looking over at Pomroy, whose head was now being absorbed into the torso of the beast, Barclay aimed his flamethrower at him and sent another burst of flame. He then prepared to send another, only for the flame to sputter.

"What the? Silva, finish... finish him off," Barclay said solemnly as he tried to fix his flamethrower. Silva nodded his head before stepping forward and sending a stream of napalm at what had once been Pomroy, engulfing him and the Thing completely. As he stepped back, he looked over at Barclay, who had taken off his flamethrower and was kneeling on the floor, inspecting the fuel tank.

"Damn thing's almost empty," Barclay muttered. "I'll get it refueled," Van Wall offered as he stepped forward. "Thanks," Barclay said tiredly as Van Wall picked up the flamethrower and carried it away. Barclay stood up before looking back into the kennel. He then looked over at Ralsen and Stiles, who were both anxiously holding the fire extinguishers as they looked at the flames. "Let them burn for another minute, and then get read to take them out-" Barclay was interrupted by the sound of a door being opened down the hallway.

Quickly running over to the other corner, Barclay looked down the hall and saw two sled dogs pushing the door open before running outside. "Fuck!" Barclay exclaimed. "What's wrong!?" Stiles asked. "We missed two of them!" Barclay explained. "What?" Atkins asked. "Two of the dogs-Things! They've escaped!" Barclay cried out, looking back over at the others.

"Shit! We have to go after them!" Silva exclaimed. "I'll go after them. Silva, stay here and make sure that these Things are destroyed," Barclay said as Ralsen and Stiles stepped forward with fire extinguishers to put out the flames. "Harvey, go get one of the snowcats prepped. I'm gonna grab another flamethrower, and then I'm gonna go after the dogs," Barclay said.

"If I'm gonna get the snowcat started, I might as well come with you," Harvey said. Barclay nodded his head before looking back over at Silva. "Silva! While me and Harvey are going after the dogs, I need you to help the others get those things taken outside and burned thoroughly," Barclay ordered. "You got it," Silva replied. "Make sure to refuel that flamethrower when you're done. Keep it on until we come back," Barclay said.

"Right," Silva said, nodding his head as Barclay and Harvey marched past him and down the hallway. "Dutton, take these keys and grab a shotgun from the armory. Use the slugs, not the pellets, understand?" Barclay said as he handed the keys to the gun locker to Dutton. "Wait, why?" Dutton asked him.

"Bring one to me, along with a box of ammo. Take them outside to me if I've already left the building," Barclay said as he reached down and felt his colt in its holster. "Bar, we've seen that bullets aren't gonna stop these things," Dutton said in protest. "We've only fired on them when they've transformed. Maybe shooting them in the head while they're still in disguise will do something. After all, if the brain is imitated perfectly, then it might behave the same way as a normal brain when shot," Barclay said.

"I hope you're right," Dutton said as he ran out of the hallway. Harvey had already made his way to the winter gear storage room and was leaving while putting on his jacket as he made his way to the exit. Barclay quickly entered the room, looking down near the corner where Van Wall was busy filling up the flamethrower's gas tank. "What's wrong?" Van Wall asked as he glanced up, seeing Barclay's worried expression. "Two of the dogs escaped. They're infected, and we have to go after them," Barclay explained as he grabbed one of the remaining M2A1-7 flamethrowers, hefting it up and feeling the weight.

"This is full, right?" Barclay asked Van Wall. "It should be," Van Wall replied. Barclay performed a quick safety inspection before nodding his head in satisfaction. He then grabbed one of his spare winter jackets, an old and worn brown flight jacket with dust on it. Barclay quickly dusted it off before putting it on and strapping the flamethrower onto his back, grabbing the safety goggles hanging up and making his way outside, closing the door behind him.

The storm had already begun to hit them, with a thin layer of snow already covering the tarps that shielded the helicopters. The cold temperature and winds nipped at Barclay's bare hands, causing him to swear as he took a pair of gloves out of his jacket's pockets and quickly put them on. Marching through the snow, both on the ground and falling from the sky, Barclay made his way to the first snowcat in sight, which already had its lights and engine turned on.

Looking over at the kennel entrance, Barclay ran over and looked at the tracks in the snow, following their direction. He looked back at the building, and then over in the direction of the tracks before making his way over to the snowcat. Seeing that Harvey was already occupying the driver's seat, Barclay hurried over to the other side of the vehicle and opened the door before climbing inside, shutting the door carefully before leaning back with the flamethrower's gas tanks between himself and the seat.

"You ready to go?" Harvey asked him as he buckled his seat belt. "Not yet," Barclay said as he looked over and saw one of the station's entrance doors opening. A figure ran out into the snow and made their way over to the driver side door of the snowcat, carrying something in their hands.

"Open the door," Barclay said. Harvey opened the door and looked down at Dutton, who was carrying an Ithaca Model 37, along with a box of ammo. "Here," Dutton said as he handed the gun and ammo to Harvey. "We already have a flamethrower," Harvey said. "Bar said he wants one with you," Dutton said.

Harvey glanced over at Barclay incredulously. "Are you serious? Like you'll see far enough to hit anything in this weather," Harvey spat. "Just take the gun and put it in the back," Barclay said. Harvey relented with a sigh and grabbed the weapon, holding it by the barrel and trying to aim it away from Barclay's head as he pulled it up into the cabin. Harvey then grabbed the ammo box and placed it on the console between him and Barclay.

"Dutton, go back inside and make sure that all of the other doors are closed. Make sure that those bodies in the kennel are taken outside and burned again. I already told Silva what to do, so you guys just hang tight until we get back," Barclay said. "Okay. Okay, we'll take care of that," Dutton said.

"What if you guys don't come back?" Dutton asked. Barclay adopted a look of thoughtfulness on his face before giving Dutton an answer. "Keep Doc and the others working on a test. No one leaves this continent until we know for sure who's human," Barclay said before gesturing to Harvey to close the door. Dutton stood back as the vehicle moved forward through the snow, its headlights providing just enough illumination through the storm for the occupants to see where they were going.

* * *

Cole and Sid ran through the heavy snow, their fur coats providing the warmth needed to keep going until they could find a place to hide and dig a shelter. After stopping for a moment, Cole felt around the ground with his paws, looking for soft enough snow to begin digging up. There would be no point in transforming out in this weather, as both imitations were well aware.

Their best option, as both of them had realized, was to simply get as far away from Hawke Station as possible, stay out of sight, and dig a hole in a snowy embankment where they could hide until the storm subsided. They both knew from their previous encounters with the humans that when a group leader emerged, they were a force to be trifled with unless assimilated early on.

After finding a suitable location to begin digging, Sid and Cole set to work. The two used their imitated muscles to their fullest, until their ears picked up a noise amongst the building wind. Cole put a paw on Sid's side to usher him to stop. Both animals briefly stepped away from the hole to look into the distance and see the small lights approaching in the dark.

The humans had followed them. Frowning at the approaching vehicle, Cole growled in frustration and anger, before looking at Sid. Sid looked at Cole and tilted his head, until Cole made motions with his head and his paw. Sid soon nodded his head in agreement with the plan, and both imitations split up, with Sid making his way towards a spot where he knew the humans would be able to see him, while Cole disappeared from sight. Sid waited for a couple of minutes before slowly turning around and trotting away, making sure to stay just ahead of the headlights' range.

* * *

"Are those tracks? In the snow up ahead?" Barclay asked as Harvey kept driving the snowcat forward. "I can't tell," Harvey replied. Barclay glanced back over his shoulder at the shotgun in the back, before he spotted a crate on the back floor. "Harvey, what's in the crate behind us?" Barclay asked him.

"Huh?" Harvey asked, briefly glancing back at the crate before returning his attention to the snowy world ahead of them. "Uh, I think that's dynamite," Harvey said. "Dynamite? What's it doing in here?" Barclay asked him. "It wasn't me. Someone else probably brought it out for something and forgot to put it back," Harvey said.

"How long has that box been sitting out here?" Barclay asked incredulously. "No idea, Bar. Like I said, it wasn't me," Harvey replied. "Jesus," Barclay muttered. A few minutes later, Harvey leaned forward and squinted his eyes. "Do you see that?" Harvey asked him.

"See what?" Barclay asked as he also leaned forward. "There!" Harvey said as he took one hand off of the steering controls and pointed forward. Just ahead of the lights, both men could make out a furry tail. "We've caught up to them," Barclay said before checking the hose and nozzle of his flamethrower.

"So, why exactly did you want that shotgun?" Harvey asked him. "Do you know how to use one?" Barclay asked him. "Yeah. I used to go hunting using one. Mine had a longer barrel, though," Harvey explained. "Good. So you know the rules of firearm safety then?" Barclay asked him.

"Yeah. You have to when you buy a gun," Harvey replied. "Right?" he asked after failing to hear Barclay agree with him. "Pretty sure," Barclay finally said. Up ahead, the dog soon began to pick up its pace before changing direction, slowly shifting to its left. "That's right. Keep running," Barclay said under his breath.

After another few minutes, however, Harvey and Barclay both let out yells of surprise when the dog darted to the right and they realized that they were heading straight for an snowy embankment or hill of some kind. "Slow us down! Turn! Turn!" Barclay exclaimed as Harvey tried to change the vehicle's course, slowing down as the vehicle plowed into a snow bank.

The two men shuddered at the impact before Harvey managed to stop the vehicle. "Son of a bitch! Bastard tried to crash us!" Barclay exclaimed. "What do you mean ' _tried_ ' _!?_ " Harvey asked him indignantly. "Can we move?" Barclay asked Harvey. The helicopter pilot looked over his shoulder before trying out the controls. The vehicle jumped a bit as it began rolling back a few feet.

"Yeah," Harvey replied, still shaken from crashing. "This thing's smarter than we thought," Harvey said after a minute. "Yeah," Barclay said as he kept his gaze on the windows, holding his flamethrower closely. "Harvey, get that shotgun and make sure its loaded," Barclay said as he undid his seat-belt. "What are you doing?" Harvey asked him. "I want you to move into the back area and get that shotgun. Do it," Barclay ordered.

Harvey quietly acquieced the order and put the vehicle in park before undoing his seat belt and crawling into the back. "Bar, what the hell good is a shotgun gonna do against these things? We know it won't kill them," Harvey said. "Have we ever shot an imitation in the head when it wasn't transformed?" Barclay asked in return.

"Huh? Well... I don't think so," Harvey replied. "Now's our chance to find out," Barclay said with a thoughtful expression. "And what if it doesn't do anything?" Harvey asked him. "Then I've still got my flamethrower. And there should also be at least one flare gun and extra flare in here. All of our vehicles should have those," Barclay replied.

"Fine," Harvey said as he loaded the shotgun. "So, what's your plan?" Harvey asked Barclay. "I'm gonna go outside and lure those things in close, and then-" Barclay was interrupted by a thud on the roof. Both men looked up as the thumping continued over the roof, before they saw a Siberian Husky jump down onto the snow in front of them. The dog turned around and stared at the occupants of the vehicle.

"Where's the other one?" Harvey asked quietly. "Somewhere," Barclay asked as he glanced away from the imitation dog standing outside. The dog looked straight at Harvey, before turning its attention to Barclay, who soon returned his attention to the dog. The imitation narrowed its gaze at the man and furrowed its brows as it curled its lips and growled.

Barclay lifted a gloved fist into the air and flipped the beast off. "Yeah, fuck you too," Barclay said to the animal. The dog slowly began to circle the vehicle, walking over to the passenger side door, the only thing separating it from the man inside, before continuing to stalk around the side and back of the vehicle.

As the dog circled the snowcat, Harvey raised the shotgun and trailed the animal outside, keeping his finger on the trigger guard, waiting for the moment to strike. As Barclay followed the animal's movements, he slowy reached over to the handle of the door and turned it with his left hand. "Harvey, the moment I open this door... that Thing is either going to charge for me, or its going to retreat if I can position myself quickly enough," Barclay said quietly, briefly glancing to the side out of his peripheral vision.

"What if it gets to you?" Harvey asked him. "Do what you have to do," Barclay said. "Don't let me become one of those Things," Barclay said. "Got it," Harvey said, nodding his head reluctantly. The dog soon slowed down as it neared the front of the vehicle. It then stopped, raising its head to stare at Barclay, who was already opening the door and keeping the igniter pointed outside.

Barclay locked gazes with the dog as he continued slowly pushing the door open. Man and beast stared at each other, almost unblinking, as Barclay slowly poised himself once the door was fully open. His heart was racing a mile a minute, and he could almost hear the pounding in his ears, as he prepared to step outside and face the imitation. "Do I feel lucky?" Barclay asked the imitation quietly, quoting one of his favorite movies.

Barclay and Sid stared into each other's eyes for a full sixty seconds as Harvey watched them with baited breath.

Then Barclay leapt into action. The imitation quickly feinted forward, before stepping back. Barclay paused at the animal's actions, until he remembered something very important: there was still another dog. Quickly spinning around as fast as he could, Barclay sent a stream of flame out towards the other dog as it ran towards him. The Alaskan Malamute quickly turned mid leap and let out a howl as the flame torched its tail.

The imitation quickly fell into the snow and rolled around to put itself out before jumping back up onto all fours and turning to face Barclay. The imitation took a defensive stance as it snarled at him. Barclay kept his hands on both the firing trigger and the igniter trigger of the flamethrower, his gaze constantly darting back and forth, scanning for the other imitation.

He then heard the sound of paws running on the snow, and knew that the other animal was beginning to circle around, flanking him. Barclay knew that he only had a few seconds at the most before he was beset upon. Then he heard the sound of a door opening and a shotgun blast sounded through the night air. Barclay watched as the dog in front of him, Cole, flinched slightly at the sound, before another shot rang out.

Barclay took one step forward, and so did Cole. The dog glared at Barclay, before another shot rang out. "I think I got it!" Harvey called out. "Good!" Barclay shouted, keeping his focus on Cole. Cole then raised a paw forward, before shallowly curling its lips to form a grin, revealing its teeth. Barclay saw the animal's eyes take on a greenish hue as its body began to shiver.

Thinking that the Thing may be rendered immobile while transforming, Barclay quickly stepped forward and released a stream of napalm, only for Cole to quickly bolt forward and away, heading for the driver's end of the snowcat, out of the range of the oncoming flame as the imitation leaped onto the roof of the vehicle. Barclay turned his head in surprise and watched as the dog kept moving, leaping down to the side of the vehicle. A shot rang out and Harvey began screaming.

Quickly running over to the back of the vehicle and running to the side, Barclay saw the dog already clamping its jaws around Harvey's throat, drawing blood before snapping to the side, breaking Harvey's neck before tearing flesh and bone away as Harvey let out a dying raspy gurgle. Blood sprayed out and covered the dog's muzzle before it chewed and swallowed the flesh it had torn. Barclay felt rage and and hatred boiling inside of him as the imitation let go of Harvey's head and looked up at him, giving him the same smirk from earlier before reaching a paw out and pressing it into the man's mouth, forcing his head backwards into the snow. Barclay glared at the beast and almost produced a snarl of his own in retaliation.

The imitation adorned a contented look on its muzzle before quickly turning around and running around to the other side of the vehicle. Barclay reached down and drew his Colt M1911 with his right hand as he held the flamethrower in his left hand. He quickly raced over to the other side and aimed at the dog as it darted ahead.

Lining up the iron sights on the pistol, Barclay fired at the dog's head, just at the tip of the muzzle. With the dog moving forward at the same time, the bullet flew straight into the back of its head, causing it to stumble and trip over itself as it dropped to the snowy ground. Taking in a deep breath, Barclay re-holstered his pistol and gripped his flamethrower properly as he marched forward, keeping the nozzle aimed at the imitation collapsed on the ground in front of him.

As he got closer, he watched for any signs of movement from the body. "How perfect are you?" Barclay asked quietly, wondering if a perfectly imitated brain would cease functioning just as an original brain would under the circumstances. Would the disconnect of gray matter from the other nerves in the body cause a total collapse of function? Or would an imitation heal such wounds and restructure the damaged flesh?

Barclay scanned the dog's body, watching the chest to see if it was rising and falling. He saw no such activity. "Perfect. Too perfect," Barclay muttered. He slowly turned around and took a few steps away before stopping and marching in place for a few seconds. He then heard a soft, very subtle shuddering and rippling sound. Turning around, Barclay saw the torso of the dog rippling as it began to bleed. The blood started out red, but soon gave way to greens and yellows as the torso began shuddering, and a horrible combination of fleshy twisting and cracking sounds emanated from within the body.

Barclay stepped back and watched as the dog's fur and flesh began simmering and melting, not falling off, but melting back into the body, becoming gooey and slime-like as the limbs of the animal began twitching, with the paws bleeding before the flesh violently rended itself from the bones, curling backwards and folding in on itself as the muscles and tissue still connected to the bones seemed to breathe before snapping off. The whole body began violently shuddering as a terrible gurgling sound was produced from the creature's maw, which soon rose up from the snow. Barclay watched in bile fascination as the bullet and its various bits were soon forced out by pulsing flesh and bone.

The green eyes of the Thing glanced around before focusing on Barclay, malice and hatred infused in them as it turned its head further. The body began to roll as it shuddered, with the limbs of the animal becoming grotesque as they bent in all of the wrong directions, and the "belly" of the dog rippled as a ridge began to form. The ridge of flesh soon gave way as a serrated fin-like series of spines, made of red flesh and bone, protruded from it, with a veiny membrane sticking between each spine, forming a sail.

The Thing's tail began to simmer, and steam rose up as the fur melted together with the flesh and bone, soon forming something long and bony, with a stinger seen on the end. The Thing rose up on its now grotesque limbs and it let out a horrible cry, inhuman and not of this world, towards Barclay before snarling and snapping its jaws. Barclay narrowed his eyes at the creature as its muzzle split apart into mandibles, with a tongue in the middle whipping around, while the green eyes soon rose out on opposable stalks that formed out of its head, twisting in the air.

Barclay raised the flamethrower and frowned at the Thing as it began lumbering forward. "Get off of my planet," Barclay spat before sending stream after stream of napalm at the Thing. The monstrosity howled as fire engulfed it. " _ **Burn in HELL!**_ " Barclay roared as he let loose another jet of flame, torching the Thing.

The Thing cried out before collapsing to the ground again, its limbs giving up and spasming as fire consumed it. It continued howling as Barclay set it ablaze once more. He waited until it stopped moving before turning around and walking back to the snowcat. As he approached the open passenger door, he looked over at other open door and heard a noise. Reaching in and opening the glove compartment, Barclay found an unused flare and the flare gun.

Quickly pulling it out, he ignited it and walked around to the other side of the vehicle, where he was taken back by the gruesome sight before him. Sid, the other dog imitation, had moved itself onto Harvey's body and was fusing with it, merging the flesh of the two beings together as tendrils ripped apart Harvey's clothes. The abomination, its flesh fusing with Harvey's at its front legs and head, looked up and let out a cry.

Harvey's mouth also opened and let out a raspy growl, his eyes turning green and his lips curling into a snarl. Barclay watched as Harvey's right arm reach out and grabbed the fallen shotgun on the ground, bringing it closer to his body as it tried using the one limb to hold and aim the weapon. Barclay threw his flare at the mutation's open mouth, letting it land on the chin of the creature before it began to immolate it. The Thing let out a howl and thrashed around, with both bodies twisting and turning, the shotgun being flung around and landing somewhere on the ground.

Barclay then raised the flamethrower and sent another stream of napalm at the beast, setting it ablaze. Barclay fired again and again, not letting up until he was out of fuel. When his canisters were finally empty, he tiredly made his way over to the other side of the snowcat and got inside, taking off the harness for the flamethrower and throwing the weapon in the back. He put the flare gun back in the glove compartment and closed the passenger door.

Looking at the dash board, Barclay took survey of the instrument panel and saw that allowing the vehicle to run continuously had not put too serious a dent into the fuel supply. Crawling over into the driver's seat, Barclay got out and walked over to where the shotgun had been tossed, picking it up and inspecting it before taking the slugs out of the loading port and removing the one in the chamber. He collected the bullets and put them away before placing the shotgun on the back floor.

Looking back over at the burning bodies of the Thing, Barclay let out a tired and worn breath. He glanced back over at the crate of dynamite in the back of the snowcat and looked out over at the other burning Thing in the distance. _Better safe than sorry_ , he mentally told himself before grabbing a bundle of dynamite from the case and carefully separating two sticks and their wires. Opening the glove compartment, he found one more unused flare.

Shutting the doors and getting in the driver's seat, Barclay took the vehicle out of park and backed it up until it was clear from the burning bodies of what had once been Harvey and a dog. He stopped the vehicle, parked it, and then got out with the dynamite and the flare. Making his way over to the farthest burning corpse, he got the flare ready, until he realized that the body still being on fire negated the need for it as long as he was accurate with his throw.

Taking a pose and aiming, Barclay tossed the stick of dynamite at the burning corpse, watching with satisfaction as it landed directly on top of the body... and in the center of a burning fire. Quickly covering his ear and closing his eyes, Barclay dove to the ground as the dynamite went off a few seconds later, lighting up the sky for a moment. As Barclay soon got up, he watched as burning pieces of Thing remains danced through the air on their way down to Earth.

He then repeated the process with the other body before making his way back to the snowcat. Getting inside and closing the door, Barclay buckled his seat belt and looked at the thermometer and fuel gauge. "I should have enough," he said to himself as he began turning the vehicle around and driving it back towards Hawke Station.

 **Twenty Minutes Later...**

Barclay's eyes widened when he heard the engine sputter. "No. No. No! Come on, do _not_ do this to me!" he pleaded as the vehicle soon came to a stop. "Mother _fucker!_ " Barclay swore angrily before lashing out and hitting the dash board. "God DAMMIT!"

He then leaned back and took a deep breath to calm himself. Looking at the thermometer, Barclay saw the temperature inside the vehicle stay steady for a few minutes... before it slowly began to drop. "Fuck," he whispered to himself.

Looking up ahead, Barclay could just make out the lights of Hawke Station in the distance. It would be at least a twenty or thirty minute walk if he pushed himself. Looking back at the thermometer, Barclay reached into the glove compartment and pulled out the flare and flare gun, pocketing both. He looked back at the empty flamethrower.

If he took it with him, it would slow him down, and with the outside temperature being as low as it was, he had to move as quickly as possible if he wanted to survive. He could always come back to get the flamethrower later, but it meant that there would be one less defense inside the station. Reaching back, he opened the case of dynamite and took out a bundle before looking for something to strap them with.

Seeing a box on the floor, he opened it and found a safety harness inside with pockets and straps. Barclay quickly took off his jacket before putting on the harness and replacing the jacket. He then set to work stowing the dynamite, flare, and flare gun. Reaching down, he patted his holstered Colt M1911 to reassure himself before he grabbed the safety goggles for his flamethrower, threw them on, and stepped out into the night air. He pulled out the flare and ignited it before beginning his trek back home through the snow, the wind, and the cold.

* * *

 **Hawke Station...**

"Are you sure?" Ralsen asked as he saw the undergarments in Dutton's hands. "Look at the name tag!" Dutton said as he thrust the shredded Long-Johns into Ralsen's hands. "No. No, this ain't right," Stiles said worriedly as he paced around the rec room. "He was one of those Things the whole time," Kinner said in dismay, sinking into the couch and putting his head in his hands.

Almost everyone had been gathered into the rec room after burning the bodies outside, with the exception of Walters. Walters had, once again, retreated into the safety of the green house after learning about the incident in the kennel. No one had bothered to try coaxing him out after coming back inside.

"Now, let's not lose our heads here," Crenna said as he stood up. "Where did you find these?" he asked Dutton. "They were in the trash can in the office. I knocked it over by accident when I was going over to the gun cabinet," Dutton said. "But when did it get to him?" Atkins asked.

"Could have been any time," Carrington said thoughtfully. "When the lights went out?" Caldwell suggested. "No," Van Wall said thoughtfully. "I mean, it's a great opportunity, but he was with us when it happened. Well, not _right_ when it happened. I mean, he only arrived in the room a couple minutes after, but that's not enough time to be attacked and turned by those things," Van Wall added.

"No, but it _is_ enough time to kill someone and hide the body if he has someone else turn off the lights for him," Dutton said solemnly. "What do you mean?" Silva asked him curiously. "I went into his room after checking on Hendry, to keep him abreast of the situation, and I found this," Dutton said as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a coil of thin wire, just like the kind that Thorne had been strangled with.

"No. No, no, _**NO!**_ " Silva spat out angrily as he began pacing around the room. "It doesn't make any sense, though," Crenna said quietly. "Wait, how could he murder Thorne and then turn off the lights _and_ get into this room only a minute later?" Silva asked skeptically. "He had help. Remember, there's at least _two_ imitations running around," Carrington said.

"Harvey's out there alone with him," Ralsen said in horror. "Oh dear god," Carrington said as he leaned back against the wall. "But why? I mean, this whole time... he's been wasting those things, though, hasn't he? He wouldn't go around roasting other Things if he were one of them, would he?" Van Wall asked.

"If it meant getting us to trust him, he very well could have forced himself to do it," Dutton said with a tinge of bitterness in his voice. Crenna marched over and grabbed the underpants from Ralsen's hands and looked at them. "They're... they're his," he whispered to himself sadly as he read the name-tag stenciled on them.

A. BARCLAY

* * *

 **Thirty Minutes Later...**

Barclay took another step forward before leaning on the side of the storage shed. He held the flare above his head as he took a breath and forced himself to begin walking again. His limbs and muscles ached, and his body felt cold, but he was determined. He staggered forward, forcing himself to think of his warm bed or a hot bath, incentivising himself to keep moving forward.

"Keep... moving... Allison," Barclay said to himself through gritted teeth. Snow and frost had begun to cover his beard, and he could barely feel the tips of his fingers. "You're almost... almost there," he told himself as the howling wind blew past him. "Just a few more steps," he said before finally reaching the door.

He leaned forward and raised a fist into the air before slamming it into the door. "Is anyone there!? Silva!? Dutton!? Van Wall!?" Barclay shouted as he continued knocking on the door, begging to be let inside. "Please! Pease, anyone!" Barclay pleaded desperately.

He soon heard the door handle being turned from the inside. A smile, a joyous smile, quickly broke out over his face as he watched the door open from inside. He quickly tossed the flare into the snow and stepped forward before collapsing onto the hallway floor, pulling himself forward as the door was closed behind him.

"Thank you. Oh god, thank you!" Barclay said in relief. "Where's Harvey?" asked a cold voice. Barclay rolled over and looked up at the men who were surrounding him. Looking down at him were Dutton, Ralsen, Kinner, Stiles, Sanchez, Silva, and Van Wall. Ralsen and Dutton were both holding flamethrowers, aiming them at him, while Silva held his away, a conflicted look adorning his face.

"Did I miss something?" Barclay asked them hesitantly. "Where... is Harvey?" Ralsen asked him coldly. "He... he's dead," Barclay said quietly. "I'll bet he is," Dutton said, frowning. "Tell me, Bar, don't dirty laundry go in the hampers? Not, you know, the trash can?" Ralsen asked him as he reached into his vest and pulled out a shredded pair of underwear, depositing them on Barclay's jacket.

Barclay looked at the name stenciled on them. He then looked back up, realizing what was going on. "Uh... I've been framed," Barclay said. "Hm... hear that?" Ralsen asked as he looked around. "I don't quite believe that. Oh, there's also the wire we found in your room. You know, the wire that you _murdered_ Thorne with!" Ralsen spat at him, pushing the nozzle of the flamethrower closer to Barclay's head.

"I've been framed," Barclay repeated slowly. The disbelieving looks on everyone's faces, however, told him that they weren't listening. Except, perhaps, for Silva. Unfortunately, Dutton and Ralsen had taken charge, and Silva was following their lead. "I say we waste him right here and now. He's vulnerable," Ralsen said, narrowing his eyes at Barclay.

"No!" Silva shouted. "We have to prove that he's an imitation before we can kill him. Otherwise... we'd be murderers," Silva said. "He's right," Van Wall said. "Well... what do we do with him then?" Ralsen asked. "I have an idea," Carrington said. Barclay did not like the tone in Carrington's voice, and so with a grimace, he simply allowed his tiredness and exhaustion to take over, and he drifted into unconsciousness as the men bickered above him.

* * *

Author's Notes: And there is chapter ten! And what a roller coaster ride it was. For those interested, the scene with the dog chase was inspired by an un-filmed sequence in the John Carpenter film. The sequence _was_ included in the novelization by Alan Dean Foster, but his novelization was based on an earlier draft of the screenplay.

For those of you wondering when the dogs got infected, please remember that when the Childs-Thing attacked the kennel, I described a brief sequence where some of its tendrils had gotten through the chain-link and were attacked by some of the dogs.

In the next chapter, we have yet another Thing attack, and the most famous test in Thing lore is finally discovered by the crew of Hawke Station.

Be sure to let me know what you think of this chapter and/or the story so far in your reviews.


	11. Boiling Point & The Test

**THE THING II: Hawke Station**

Disclaimer: John Carpenter's THE THING is property of Universal.

* * *

 **Chapter 11: Boiling Point / The Test**

* * *

Date: Winter 1982 - 1983

 **United States Antarctic Research Outpost "Hawke Station"**

As the fierce winter storm raged outside, a more sinister storm began to build up within the confines of Hawke Station. Inside the recreation room, Barclay had been tied up to a chair, along with Atkins. Barclay, however, had not been awake when the other men had tied him up, his exhaustion having taken its toll on him.

When Barclay finally did wake up, a couple hours later, he saw Atkins tied up to a chair next to his. "Okay, what all did I miss?" Barclay asked in confusion as he looked around. His jacket had been removed along with the safety harness he'd found in the snowcat, leaving only his sage-colored shirt on, along with his cargo pants, socks, boots, underwear, and empty holster. The flare gun had been taken as well. "They think you and I killed Thorne," Atkins explained with bitterness in his voice. "They... _what?_ " Barclay asked him with wide eyes, confused.

"They think that you and I worked together to kill Thorne," Atkins said. "All of them?" Barclay asked him. "I don't know. Ralsen and Dutton are convinced of it, while the rest are just going along with Dutton's orders. He was the one who found your underwear and the wire," Atkins said. "Where did he find them?" Barclay asked him. "Dutton says that he found the underwear in the trash can in Hendry's office. And apparently he searched your room to see if someone had taken your clothes at some point. That's when he found the wire hidden under your bed," Atkins explained.

"Wire? And it hasn't occurred to them that I've been framed?" Barclay asked. "We aren't buying that until we can prove your humanity," Ralsen said from his seat over in the corner, behind Barclay. "Ben, untie me," Barclay said. "No," Ralsen said firmly. "Look, I'm innocent. I've been set up," Barclay said.

"When you can prove it, I'll listen," Ralsen said, holding a cattle prod in his hands. Barclay looked around the room and saw that it was mostly empty, aside from Crenna and Silva both sitting by the pool table, wringing their hands nervously. "Where's everyone else?" Barclay asked. "Searching your room," Ralsen said.

"For what? More planted evidence?" Barclay retorted. "We'll just have to wait and see," Ralsen said smarmily. "So... why was Doc tied up again?" Barclay asked. "I was the closest to the lights when they went out," Atkins explained in a disappointed manner. "Oh," Barclay said. "Oh? That's it? Oh? They have more evidence against you than than they they do against me!" Atkins snapped angrily.

"Well, think about it," Ralsen said. "The only options are you, Doc, Kinner, Silva, and Walters," Ralsen said. "Then why isn't Kinner tied up, or Silva? And where's Walters?" Barclay responded.

"Walters is where he always is; inside his damn green house," Ralsen said. "And Hendry is still in his room?" Barclay asked. "Of course. So, once the others return, we'll decide your..." Ralsen trailed off as the others returned, entering the room quietly. "So, what'd ya find?" Ralsen asked them.

"Nothing," Dutton said. "Maybe... maybe he _was_ framed," Stiles suggested. Ralsen snorted in response. Meanwhile, the rest of the men, Walters and Hendry excluded made their way around the room. "Connant? Carrington? Aren't you guys supposed to be working on a test?" Barclay asked them.

Carrington looked over at Barclay with a sad expression on his face. "We've been trying, Bar. We just... we have nothing else to go on. Those dogs were the last hope that we had, and now... what else can we do? Our best opportunity, admittedly, is basically to wait until the storm is over," he replied.

"Bullshit! As long as that storm is raging, we have this Thing contained here. Come on, Stewart! Think of something!" Barclay exclaimed, pulling against his ropes. "Bar, all we can do is wait out the storm and have McMurdo send someone over here. Then, we can take that person's blood and use it for a serum test," Carrington said.

"We've all pretty much agreed upon it at this point. It's the only option," Carrington said. Barclay looked over at Caldwell. "Bart? Are you actually going to risk the planet's safety like this?" Barclay asked Caldwell. "Bar, please. You gotta understand, these guys have done what they can! This is the safest option. Once the storm is over, I can radio McMurdo and ask them to send someone out here," Caldwell said.

"It really is the best option," Carrington said. "Bar, he's got a point," Connant said. "Someone from McMurdo would have fresh blood. There'd be no chance of contamination," he added confidently. Barclay processed Connant's words, and despite his unwillingness to jeopardize the outside, he had to concede that their point as logical. "And what do we do in the meantime?" Barclay asked them.

"Well, obviously, we wait," Carrington said in a matter-of-fact manner. Barclay looked at Carrington and studied him closely. "Is something wrong?" Carrington asked him. "Yeah. I want you to untie me from this FUCKING CHAIR!" Barclay shouted angrily. "No can do, Bar. We can't take that risk. Now, why don't you tell us what really happened to Harvey and the dogs?" Ralsen asked him.

"Come on, Ralsen. If he'd infected Harvey, then they both would have come back here together," Connant said. "I think he's at least telling the truth about Harvey," he added reluctantly. "Oh, come on!" Ralsen exclaimed. "He probably infected Harvey and left him out there to freeze so that someone else can find him!" Ralsen spat.

"This thing was asleep for thousands of years in the ice; it can easily survive a storm like this!" he concluded. "Well, Harvey _did_ get infected," Barclay said, prompting everyone to look at him. "I told you," Ralsen said as he grabbed a cattle prod from the floor. "By the dogs," Barclay said pointedly, glaring at Ralsen.

"Bar, why were you walking back here instead of driving the snowcat?" Crenna asked him hesitantly. "It ran out of gas on the way back. We left it running while we fought those Things," Barclay said. "What about the flamethrower? You took it with you when you departed," Van Wall asked. "It ran out of fuel," Barclay said.

"Ran out of fuel?" Ralsen asked with a scoff. "I used it up. After those Things infected Harvey, I had to make sure that everything was burned thoroughly," Barclay explained with a frown and a glare. "Yeah, and what about that harness and the dynamite?" Ralsen asked him.

"You detonate a hole for Harvey to hide in?" Ralsen asked. "Ralsen, maybe he's telling the truth about Harvey," Van Wall said. "I mean, if he _had_ infected him, then wouldn't they both have come back together, to increase their numbers?" he suggested. "He came back to infect the rest of us," Kinner said, glaring at Barclay.

"Kinner, the man saved your life when Hendry was trying to shoot you!" Crenna exclaimed in distaste for Kinner's attitude. "It could have been an act!" Kinner retorted. "Remember, the imitations are _perfect!_ And he's in the perfect position to control all of us," Kinner said. "We don't know that!" Crenna exclaimed.

"Crenna, we have the underwear _and_ the wire. I mean, it's _possible_ that he was framed, but until we can prove it, we can't take any chances," Dutton said. "He's right," Sanchez said in agreement. "Besides, _you_ were alone and missing when the lights went out as well, Kinner, just like Walters," Sanchez added as he pointed a finger at the cook. "Hey, fuck you!" Kinner spat angrily.

"Why don't you come say that to my face!?" Sanchez barked as he walked over to Kinner, balling his hands into fists. "Come on, knock it off!" Crenna yelled as he walked over between the two men, both of whom were ready to have a physical confrontation. "Just calm down! Everyone just calm down," Crenna said, raising his arms and gesturing to everyone.

"Crenna's right. We can't keep fighting each other. Kinner, go stand in the corner until we bring Walters in here," Dutton said. "What?" Kinner asked him. "Please, just do it. You _were_ alone and unaccounted for when the lights went out, just like Walters and Doc. If you can keep your cool, we won't tie you up," Dutton said. "But... but... fine," Kinner protested, before conceding and walking over to the bar.

"Okay, we're gonna have to make sure that we're all accounted for until the storm is over, so... we'll have to get Walters and bring him here," Dutton said. "What about Hendry?" Caldwell asked him. "Well, he's _already_ sedated, and I have the keys to his room. So, we don't really have to worry about him," Dutton said.

"Why do we need to get Walters?" Stiles asked him. "I mean, he's already secluded himself from the rest of us. What's the point?" Stiles asked. "He isn't sedated or locked up properly. He's still a suspect in Thorne's murder, and he is _armed_ with a cattle prod," Dutton explained. "What if he's uncooperative?" Ralsen asked him.

"We'll get some rope. Connant, go get some sedative. Make sure it's measured properly; we don't wanna kill him," Dutton said. "Dutton, think about what you're saying," Crenna said. "Walters isn't going to harm any of us. He's a frightened man who's already locked himself away for his own protection. Just leave him be," Crenna continued.

Dutton looked over at the geologist with a regretful expression. "Sorry, Martin. But we have to make sure that everyone's accounted for until the storm's over. We'll establish watches and escort the suspects to the bathroom when necessary," Dutton said. "It's wrong!" Crenna protested vehemently. "It's what needs to be done," Ralsen said.

"I won't be part of it," Crenna said defiantly. "You don't have to be, but don't you dare get in the way," Ralsen said. "And if I do?" Crenna asked him. Ralsen pulled Barclay's Colt out from his pants, causing everyone's eyes to widen in alarm. "Ralsen? Are you insane?" Crenna asked him. Ralsen gulped as he glared at Crenna, sweat beginning to bead down his face. Behind Ralsen, Dutton slowly began to back away.

"This needs to be done. For all of our safety," Ralsen said. "Y-Yeah, Crenna. For everyone's... safety," Dutton said in hesitant agreement, nervously nodding his head as Ralsen glanced over at him. "Ralsen, put the gun away," Barclay said firmly. "You aren't in charge anymore, _Allison_ ," Ralsen said snidely. "Now, go sit down, Crenna," Ralsen said as he looked over at the geologist. Crenna reluctantly nodded his head and sat down on a stool next to the pool table.

"I'll... go get the sedative ready," Connant said reluctantly before walking out of the room. "I'll go get the rope," Sanchez said quietly. Everyone began following Ralsen and Dutton's orders, gathering their supplies and exiting the room until only Crenna, Kinner, and the two tied up men remained.

"They're forming a lynch mob," Barclay said to Atkins. "Once they get Walters in here, they're gonna start deciding who to kill first," Barclay said. "We have to stop this," he added. "How?" Atkins asked him. Barclay looked over at Crenna. "Martin... please, untie us," Barclay pleaded.

"I'd like to, Bar, but... we do have your underwear, and the wire was found in your room," Crenna said sadly. "I was framed, Crenna," Barclay said. "Can you prove it?" Crenna asked him softly. Kinner kept his eyes on both men as they conversed, watching them carefully.

"Both of the shredded Johns I found earlier were missing name tags. My shredded Johns still have the name tag intact. Notice the difference?" Barclay asked him. "I do. But... what about the wire?" Crenna asked him. "That isn't mine," Barclay replied. "But can you prove it?" Crenna asked him. "Why would I keep a murder weapon in my own quarters?" Barclay asked him.

Crenna shook his head. "Bar, I'm sorry. But that doesn't exactly prove you innocent. I want to believe you, I do! But... we need more information," Crenna said. "I... I'm sorry," Crenna said, hanging his head in defeat.

Several minutes later, the men heard shouting in the hallway, and pounding footsteps on the floor. Glancing over to the second doorway of the rec room, Barclay saw Walters run inside, holding his cattle prod. Walters ran over to the pool table, staying opposite of Crenna as he held his cattle prod defensively and looking back over at the doorway as Ralsen and the others entered the room.

"Stay back! Stay the fuck back!" Walters shouted as he ran over to the other doorway, only to turn away when he saw Connant and Silva standing by it. "Walters, please. Just calm down," Silva said worriedly. "Fuck you!" Walters spat at him before running over by Atkins and Barclay.

"Walters, put down the cattle prod," Ralsen said. Standing in the back, Kinner grabbed a glass bottle from the bar and slowly began making his way around the room, staying out of Walters' sight. "A man can't even go to the bathroom in peace! You all stay the fuck away from me!" Walters spat defensively. "Walters... just calm down," Dutton said. "Fuck you!" Walters spat.

"Well, I guess corralling Walters wasn't such a good idea after all, was it?" Barclay asked smarmily as he looked at Ralsen and Dutton. "Shut up, Bar!" Ralsen snapped. "Walters, untie me, please," Barclay asked. "Oh, I'd love to, Bar. But I need both hands to use this," Walters replied as he held his cattle prod defensively, his eyes constantly flicking back and forth around the room.

"Walters, if you don't put that down in the next five minutes, we'll have to restrain you with force, or worse," Ralsen said as he took out the pistol. "You don't even know how to use that thing," Walters said, narrowing his eyes at the mechanic. "We'll see about that," Ralsen said.

"You know bullets don't work on imitations, Ralsen. If he is one, you'd just be wasting your time. Even shooting these things in the head doesn't work," Barclay said. "Oh, really? Well maybe we should test that out on _you_ ," Ralsen said as he aimed the gun at Barclay. "Ralsen, stop!" Crenna cried out as he stood up, catching everyone's attention, including Walters'.

Kinner used this distraction to his advantage as he rushed over to Walters with the glass bottle. "Fucking monster!" Kinner cried out, alerting Walters to his movement. Walters quickly aimed and jabbed his cattle prod forward, hitting Kinner in the chest and sending an electrical current through his chest briefly. Kinner yelled out before stumbling back and falling over the coffee table, crashing into the wall near the other doorway.

"Kinner!" Silva cried out. Stiles rushed over with Carrington. "I-I... he rushed me! He attacked me!" Walters cried out in his defense. "I... I didn't mean to!" he began to blabber incoherently, shocked as his own actions. Stiles kneeled down next to Kinner and put a hand on his throat, checking for a pulse as Kinner began gasping for breath.

"Oh shit, he's stopped breathing!" Stiles cried out in alarm as he failed to find a pulse and Kinner's gasping soon stopped. "Kinner! Kinner!" Stiles cried out in horror. Everyone's attention was now diverted to the injured, and probably dead, man on the floor. "You stay here, I'll go retrieve a defibrillator from the infirmary," Carrington said as he ran out of the room.

"Untie me; I can help!" Atkins exclaimed. "Just stay where you are, Doc. Carrington can handle this," Ralsen snapped. "Jesus Christ, Ralsen! Do you _want_ Kinner to die!?" Barclay yelled at him in disgust.

Meanwhile, over by the wall, Stiles had already propped Kinner up against it and was unbuttoning his shirt. "We gotta have bare skin for the defibrillator," he said after seeing the questioning looks sent his way by some of the other men. "He's right. The electrical charge won't travel properly through clothing, or at all," Atkins said in agreement.

After opening Kinner's shirt, Stiles put his head against his chest to listen for a heartbeat. "Nng! Nothing!" he murmured worriedly. He raised a fist and brought it down on Kinner's chest, hoping to at least cause some kind of reaction until Carrington could return. He then put his hands and head back down against Kinner's chest again, listening for a heartbeat.

"Hey... I hear something," Stiles said, catching the others' attention. "He-He's alive! He's gonna make it! He's gonna-huh?" Stiles asked as he tried pulling his head away from Kinner's chest, only to feel a strange heat emanate from it, before trying to pull his head away again. Kinner's skin was stuck to his, and when he looked down, he felt the heat in his hands as Kinner's chest began rippling and meshing with them.

"Aaah! Heeelllp!" Stiles cried out as Kinner's flesh stretched out while he tried pulling away from him. Barclay's eyes widened in horror and realization. "Kinner's an imitation!" he gasped out. "Jesus Christ, he's one of them!"

"Heeelpp!" Stiles cried out as he felt the infection take hold. "Someone help meee! Pleeaase!" Stiles cried out in terror as Kinner's flesh fused with his own. He felt small, tiny needles begin pricking his skin as the Thing began infecting him further. Stiles' screams became louder and more panicked, as Van Wall ran over but backed away when he saw the extent of the infection and Kinner's own transformation as his body began to shake.

Van Wall quickly backpedaled and ran over to the others, all of whom were now panicking together. Barclay felt his chair get pushed over and he went sideways onto the floor. "Shit!" he exclaimed as he watched Kinner infect and assimilate Stiles. When Carrington made it back with the defibrillator on a cart, he immediately backed away from the sight in horror and retreated back into the hallway.

"Someone fucking untie me!" Barclay cried out as Stiles' infection told over. The man's eyes began to roll back and change colors as veins became visible throughout his body, and his screams turned into gurgles and groans as his head began shaking. Kinner's head began moving as well, with his lips bleeding and his eyes opening to reveal blood covering them. His head soon split open like a flower, with his tongue swaying in the air, and his hands moving around.

Each fleshy petal had rows of tiny, needle-like teeth covering it. The tongue began to grow longer, with Kinner's legs twitching as the transformation continued. "Someone untie me! Get me out of this chair!" Barclay cried out in terror. "Jesus Christ! Someone fucking untie me!" he screamed again.

Crenna ran over and grabbed his ropes, taking out a switch-blade to cut them before helping Barclay get up. "Thanks," Barclay muttered as Crenna helped him step over the fallen chair. Barclay quickly untied Atkins before running over to Ralsen and punching him in the gut, taking his pistol back and turning off the safety. "Walters, shock the fucker!" Barclay barked at the botanist.

Walters was frozen in terror as he watched the transformation continue. "Walters! Move your ass!" Barclay shouted. "Uh huh!?" Walters asked as he was snapped out of his stupor. "Use the cattle prod!" Barclay shouted at him. Barclay then looked over at Van Wall. "Van! Get a flamethrower! Hurry!" Barclay shouted at the pilot. Van Wall nodded his head and ran out of the room.

Caldwell grabbed a cattle prod from near the bar, and in light of Walters' fright, ran over and jabbed it at the Thing. An electrical current ran through the abomination, before Kinner's throat turned and his tongue whipped around before spraying a purple-tinged liquid at Caldwell's face and throat, causing him to drop the cattle prod. Caldwell grabbed at his face and cried out in agony as he stumbled back and fell to the floor.

"Shit, watch out!" Barclay cried before grabbing any available furniture and overturning it for cover. Crenna and Atkins joined him in hiding behind it. "Hide behind the bar!" Barclay shouted at the others from behind the couch. Ralsen, Dutton, Sanchez, Silva, and Connant all obeyed and ran over to the bar, while Walters had fled to the large rocking chair near the board game shelf, holding his cattle prod defensively and whimpering in fear.

Caldwell's screams had soon turned into gasps as he removed his hands from his face, revealing that the liquid had melted his flesh and was working its way into his skull. "H-Help," Caldwell rasped out as the flesh of his throat was being melted away as well. Barclay raised his pistol and took aim at the radio operator. "I'm sorry," he whispered before lining up the iron sights and squeezing the trigger, sending a single bullet into Caldwell's head, ending his suffering.

Barclay soon ducked again and re-holstered his gun before seeing one of the commercial flamethrowers sitting against the corner of the room by the bar, partially hidden by a stool. He narrowed his eyes and began crawling forward, only to yelp in surprise as a long tentacle whipped forward and snapped at the floor. "Shit!" he cried out before retreating. He then got up in a crouch and picked up the dropped bottle near the spot where Walters had been standing earlier. He looked up over the couch and threw the bottle over near the Thing, causing its tentacle to whip around in that direction.

Stiles' head groaned and moaned as it watched Barclay dart out from behind the couch and run for the flamethrower in the corner. Smirking victoriously, Barclay quickly dragged himself and the flamethrower over behind part of the bar. He quickly checked the fuel levels before strapping the harness on and prepping the igniter apparatus.

The Thing soon began trying to stand up, using all of its limbs to move around before falling back to the floor, its weight and combined bodies angled too awkwardly to allow proper mobility. Standing up carefully, Barclay moved out from behind the counter and aimed at the Kinner-Stiles-Thing on the floor. The Stiles head looked over as its mouth began to elongate, with a cracking sound produced as the jaw bones broke apart and began extending. Barclay squeezed the trigger, sending flames rushing out. The Thing cried, roared, and trilled as it was set ablaze, waving its arms and whip its tentacle around wildly.

Barclay sent another stream of fire at it, backing up as the tentacle eventually fell to the floor, its movements having ceased. Barclay narrowed his eyes as he watched the Thing burn, until he heard a strange noise and saw one of the Kinner-portion's arms stretching, its mutated fingers digging into the floor as it pulled itself away from the fire. "What the fuck?" Barclay asked himself as he heard the sound of tearing flesh.

The arm soon tore away from the rest of the body and scurried about on the floor. Barclay aimed his flamethrower at the arm, only to stop as he realized that the target was too small to take the whole blast without the rest of the room being burned. He looked over at the spot where Walters was hiding and realized that the arm was heading that way.

Barclay ran over to Walters' spot and watched as the Thing leapt towards the botanist, only for Walters to jab his cattle prod at it and poach it before delivering a series of shocks to it. The arm produced a scream as Walters delivered electrical current after electrical current to it, causing the flesh to boil and sizzle. "Push it into the hallway!" Barclay ordered. Walters nodded his head and used the cattle prod to move the Thing out into the hallway, where Barclay was able to use the flamethrower more effectively after moving the medical cart out of the way, setting the small creature on fire.

The arm howled and tried to scurry away, but Barclay sent a final blast of heat at it, ending its attempts at escape. Backpedaling inside the room, Barclay looked at the burning Kinner-Stiles-Thing before turning his attention to the men who were starting to stand up from behind the bar. Ralsen looked over at the burning creature in bewilderment. "Shit. I guess _Kinner_ killed Thorne," he muttered.

Looking back at the burning creature, Barclay took a breath to calm himself. "Someone put that out," he barked authoritatively. Sanchez quickly grabbed a fire extinguisher from behind the bar before making his way over to the burning monster. He waited a minute before spraying the flame retardant on the burning corpses.

Thinking about what had just happened, an idea began to form in Barclay's head. "Crenna, I want you and Atkins to get Thorne and MacReady's bodies out of the storage room," Barclay said. Crenna looked at him with incredulity. "What?" Crenna asked him. "Do it. Bring the bodies in here, get and grab some rope. A lot of rope. Then go to the lab or the infirmary and get some copper wire, a sterilized scalpel, and petri dishes, with tape and markers. Fresh ones, and disinfectant," Barclay said.

Dutton stepped forward cautiously. "Bar, whatever it is that you're planning-" "Don't push me," Barclay snapped at him, aiming his flamethrower at the mechanic. "You're going to do _exactly_ as I say, understand?" Barclay asked him aggressively. "Yeah. S-Sure," Dutton said, backing up with his hands in the air, just as Van Wall returned with an M2A1-7 flamethrower strapped to his back. "Van Wall, sit that on the floor, and go get another one. And find that harness I had earlier," Barclay said calmly.

Van Wall quietly nodded his head and unbuckled the harness before gently setting it on the floor. Barclay nodded his head at him and began taking off the commercial flamethrower, setting it over by the book shelf after turning it off. Taking out his pistol, he carefully strapped on the harness of the M2A7-1 after inspecting it. Taking in a deep breath and then releasing it, Barclay scanned the faces of the remaining men in the room.

* * *

Atkins handed the rope to Barclay after he and Crenna had returned, grabbing Carrington along the way and bringing him back with them. The Kinner-Stiles-Thing had since been extinguished, and the body had been left in the corner for the time being. The petri dishes and scalpel had been retrieved under Barclay's watch as well, with MacReady and Thorne's bodies being moved with carts while still in body bags. Van Wall had also retrieved his harness with the dynamite as well, forcing him to take off the flamethrower harness to put on the other one before donning the flamethrower again.

"So... what exactly do you have in mind?" Connant asked Barclay as he began untying the rope before throwing some of it on a chair. "We're gonna have a little test," Barclay said. "What test?" Carrington asked him. "A blood test," Barclay replied flippantly.

"Bar, we've already explained that-" "Shut up," Barclay snapped, interrupting him. "Walters, you and Sanchez are gonna tie everybody up," Barclay said. "Tie us up!? What the hell for!?" Sanchez asked him. "You'll see," Barclay said as he grabbed the copper wire.

"Fuck you, man! You just wanna get even for earlier," Sanchez spat at him defiantly. Barclay stopped handling the wire and placed it back on the table. He reached down and removed his pistol from its holster. "Tom? You are going to follow my orders, or I am going to shoot you," Barclay said coldly as he switched off the safety.

"Y-You're bluffing!" Sanchez retorted with a gulp. "Am I?" Barclay asked him coldly, raising the gun and aiming it at him. "Listen, I am tired, hungry, and sore. I've been stabbed in the back by people I thought I could trust, and I'm starting to lose my patience. Do you _really_ wanna press your luck?" Barclay asked him with a snarl, glaring at the radio operator.

Sanchez quietly shook his head. "Good. Now, move that couch closer and grab that rope," Barclay ordered him. "Ralsen, you're gonna be tied up first," Barclay said as he handed the rope to Dutton. "Wait, I thought-" "You'll tie up Ralsen. Then you'll join the others," Barclay said.

"But first... Ralsen, put Bart's body on the pool table," Barclay said. "What?" Ralsen asked him with wide eyes. "I said move the corpse onto the pool table," Barclay repeated slowly with a smirk. "Just one more dead person to handle," he growled. When Ralsen hesitated, Barclay aimed his gun at him. "Do it, Ben. _Now_ ," Barclay said, furrowing his brows.

Ralsen nodded his head and walked over to the body on the floor. When he had finally moved the body onto the pool table, Barclay threw some rope at him. "What the?" Ralsen asked in confusion. "Tie up the body," Barclay said. "He's _dead_ , Bar!" Ralsen protested. "I don't care," Barclay responded.

When he was done, Ralsen made his way over to a chair by the couch. "Dutton, you can tie him up now," Barclay said. "Hands in front, where I can see them," Barclay added as Dutton began unspooling the rope and looping it around Ralsen's wrists and legs. He then tied the rope around the chair, covering Ralsen's shoulders and waist.

"Okay, now get on the couch," Barclay said. Dutton reluctantly nodded his head and went over to the couch, sitting on the far end. "Crenna, I'm sorry, but you too," Barclay said as he motioned for the geologist to sit down on the couch. Crenna sat on the other far end, leaving space for another person. "Alright, Silva, grab some stools from the bar and bring them over here," Barclay said.

Silva obeyed his orders and retrieved four large wooden stools. "Van Wall, sit down between Crenna and Dutton," Barclay said. Van Wall let out a sigh as he quietly made his way over and sat down on the couch. "Doc? Sorry, but you're getting tied up again," Barclay said as he motioned for Atkins to sit down on a stool.

Atkins frowned and sighed in consternation as he made his way over to the stool. Barclay looked over at Connant and Carrington next. "Captain Barclay, this is madness. What is the _point_ of this?" Carrington asked him skeptically. "What's the point? You're donating to the blood bank, Stewart," Barclay said in response.

"Bar, all we have to do is wait out the storm and call for someone from McMurdo to arrive. We'll have fresh, uncontaminated blood to use for the serum test," Carrington said. "Not happening," Barclay said. "And why not?" Carrington asked him.

"Because I've got a much better test. One that we don't need outside blood for," Barclay said vaguely, not wanting to give away his plan until he was sure that no one could escape. "Then let's hear it," Carrington said. "Walters, please tie up Carrington," Barclay said firmly. "Silva, grab a cattle prod in case he tries to run for it," Barclay said as he brought out his pistol again.

"This is nonsense," Carrington said as he walked over and sat down on a stool. Walters retrieved some rope and tied him up, before making turning away. "Not so fast. Tie up Connant as well," Barclay said. Connant sighed before taking a seat on the next stool. Walters tied him up as well before looking over at Barclay, glancing at the empty rocking chair in the corner.

Barclay saw the focus of the botanist's attention and shook his head. "Tie up Silva. You and Sanchez are staying untied," Barclay said. "But, Bar-" "Not buts, Silva. I didn't exactly hear you making any fuss over my situation earlier," Barclay said as he glanced down at at flamethrower in his hands. "And Walters? You and Sanchez try anything... I won't hesitate," he said. Walters nodded his head in understanding.

"Now, Walters, help Sanchez tie up the others on the couch," Barclay said. Sanchez and Walters slowly performed their task, making sure that everyone was secured with at least a little bit of wiggle room and that their hands were all tied in front of them. They then dragged the rocking chair over to the couch and tied Silva up on it. "Good," Barclay said before grabbing the tape and preparing the petri dishes. After sticking a long enough piece of tape on each dish, he began writing down names.

When he was finished, he procured the scalpel and proceeded to cut his finger, making sure to fill up the dish a good amount so that the entirety of the bottom was covered. He then wiped off the scalpel and rubbed it with disinfectant and a clean wash cloth before handing it and a petri dish to Walters. He grabbed a box of adhesive medical strips and applied one to his finger. "Your turn," Barclay said to him. Walters inhaled and closed his eyes before filling his petri dish with blood. Barclay grabbed the box and took a strip out before handing it to Walters after he handed him his blood.

The process was repeated with each person in the room, until all of the petri dishes were filled and lining a desk behind Barclay. He then grabbed the copper wire used a knife to shed the protective outer lining until there was enough length of wire for him to hold onto tightly while also placing it in front of the nozzle of his flamethrower. Using said flamethrower, Barclay began slowly heating up the exposed wire, focusing on the tip.

Looking at the men in the room, all but two of whom were tied up, Barclay smirked. "Well, now that you can't go anywhere, I think I'll explain things," he said, scanning the face of each man watching him. "When Kinner's arm tried to save itself from the rest of his body, it caused me to start thinking," Barclay began.

"I realized something, even back when I shot that dog in the head out in the snow and it survived. It all became clear to me," he continued. "You see... each piece of this Thing isn't merely part of a greater whole like our flesh is for us. No. It's a Thing of its own. Each part is its own whole, and the whole thing is just a collection of hundreds of smaller Things. Each _cell_ is a Thing," Barclay continued.

"When the imitation is large enough, like a dog or a man, it has complete control over its parts. There's a central nervous system developed to keep every piece in check, so that if I poke a whole imitation with this wire, it'll hold itself back. But if I separate part of it from the whole, then that piece is now operating on its own. There's no central nervous system to make it obey when exposed to danger. If I touch human blood with a hot wire or needle, nothing's gonna happen. It'll react like any organic compound exposed to intense heat, sizzling and maybe popping a small bubble," Barclay said as he looked each man in the eyes.

"But... if I expose a hot wire to _imitation blood_ , it'll try to escape. It'll betray the whole for the sake of its own survival. If only we'd thought of this sooner," Barclay finished as he grabbed Walters' blood. "Here we go," Barclay said, glancing at Walters.

Walters watched nervously as Barclay brought the tip of the wire down into his blood. He drew a terrified breath just before the tip made contact with the red liquid. Three... two... one... sizzle.

Walters let out a sigh of relief as he was proven human. "I guess locking yourself in that green room really paid off," Barclay said. "Grab that flamethrower," he ordered the botanist after placing the tested dish on the far end of the desk, away from the others. Walters walked over and grabbed the commericial flamethrower from the floor, strapping on the harness and readying the device.

Barclay then cleaned off the wire before heating it again. When it was ready, he grabbed Sanchez's dish. Sanchez watched in apprehension as Barclay dipped the hot wire into his blood, before quietly whispering, "yes," after being proven human. "Walters, give him a flamethrower," Barclay said. Walters slowly left the room and went to retrieve a flamethrower from the winter gear storage room. He returned a couple minutes later with a commercial model.

Barclay waited until Sanchez was armed before withdrawing the wire and placing the dish next to Walters' on the desk. He then cleaned off the wire again and reheated it before grabbing his own dish. "Now, let me make this absolutely clear to all of you," Barclay said with a glare before pressing the hot wire into his blood, producing a sizzle as he moved it around for emphasis.

"I told you I was framed," he added before placing the dish next to the other two and cleaning the wire. He began reheating it with the nozzle of his flamethrower before grabbing MacReady's dish. Glancing over at the body on the cart, Barclay carefully dipped the hot wire into the dish, producing a sizzle.

"Still human after all," Barclay said. "Alright, now it's Thorne's turn," he added before placing MacReady's dish next to his own. He cleaned off the wire and reheated it again. Grabbing the dish with Thorne's blood, Barclay inserted the hot wire, watching as it produced a sizzle.

"Caldwell now," Barclay said after placing Thorne's dish back on the desk. He repeated his cleaning and reheating procedure before grabbing Caldwell's dish. "This is bullshit," Ralsen muttered indignantly. "Well, since you feel that way, I'll do _your blood_ after Caldwell's. Then we'll see your true colors," Barclay retorted.

Keeping an eye on the body, Barclay carefully inserted the wire into Caldwell's blood, producing a sizzle. "I don't get it," Walters said. "That thing sprayed him. Shouldn't he be infected?" he asked. "That stuff was acidic. It may not have been meant to infect him. Otherwise, why would it melt off his flesh?" Barclay responded.

"Yeah... good point," Walters said quietly in agreement. After placing Caldwell's blood back on the desk, Barclay repeated his clean & heat process before grabbing Ralsen's dish. Ralsen gulped and began to sweat nervously as he saw the smirk on Barclay's face. "And now the moment of truth," Barclay said.

"Walters, keep that flamethrower ready, but _don't_ fire until I give the order," Barclay said firmly. Walters nodded his head as he aimed his flamethrower at Ralsen, who looked at him with wide, terrified eyes before looking back over at Barclay, sweat pouring down his face as he trembled in fear. " _Oh god, oh god, oh god_ ," he whispered over and over again.

"You were so eager to kill me earlier, Ralsen. You know, in a way, this is partially my fault. After all, I did order you and Lambert to spend a lot of time around those bodies. To whatever part of you is still human, I'm sorry," Barclay said. He held the wire just inches away from the blood, glancing at Ralsen with narrowed eyes, watching him squirm.

The wire drew closer and closer, as Barclay deliberately took his time to make Ralsen sweat with fear. Ralsen gulped as he watched the wire move closer and closer to the blood before holding it just an inch away. Barclay glanced up at Ralsen again with a smirk. "Jesus Christ! Just get it over with already!" Ralsen finally cried out, no longer being able to take the suspense.

"Okay," Barclay said with a smirk before plunging the wire into the blood, producing... a sizzle. Barclay's eyes widened in surprise, and Ralsen blinked before letting out a mix between a cry and a laugh in relief. "Ralsen... you're human," Barclay said as he looked at Ralsen.

"Son of a bitch," Barclay muttered in disbelief. He then looked over at Walters. "Walters... untie him," Barclay said. "You sure?" Walters asked him. "Yeah, I'm sure. He's human," Barclay said with a nod of his head. Walters walked over to Ralsen and untied him from the chair.

As Ralsen stood up from the chair, he looked at Barclay with regretful expression. "I... I'm sorry," Ralsen said shamefully. "Just get a cattle prod and stand by," Barclay said coldly to him in response.

Grabbing a cattle prod from the corner, Ralsen stood near the entrance of the room. Barclay placed Ralsen's dish on the desk before cleaning and reheating the wire again. When he was ready, he grabbed Dutton's dish. "Dutton, before we proceed... who was it that found my underwear again?" Barclay asked him.

"I did. Kinner must've taken them and shredded them, though. He had plenty of time and sharp objects to do it, and who else would have had that type of thin wire at their disposal?" Dutton replied. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense," Barclay said, shrugging his shoulders. "I guess I should've let Hendry shoot him, huh?" he asked.

"We would've found him out sooner," Dutton said, shrugging his own shoulders. "Yeah. I guess so," Barclay said in agreement. Shaking his head with a sigh and a wry smile, he dipped the wire into the dish.

 _ **SKREEE!**_

The blood shot up in the form of a tiny head and mouth after being hit by the wire. Barclay dropped the dish in surprise at the volatile reaction, his eyes widening as he let his flamethrower nozzle hit the desk and the floor at an angle. "Shit!" Barclay exclaimed as he backed up from the blood on the floor. The blood quickly raced over and up the legs of Dutton, who had gone still before he began to shiver and tremble in his spot on the couch.

"Sorry," Dutton said as he looked at Barclay with a regretful smile on his face, before it changed into a neutral line as his body increased its shaking, his internal transformation beginning as his body prepared to defend itself from the humans around it. His cheeks began to puff in an out and his eyes widened and squinted as small blood vessels began popping in them.

"Jesus Christ! I'm next to him!" Van Wall cried out as he leaned over towards Crenna, who cried out in alarm. "Do something!" Crenna exclaimed. Ralsen, Walters, and Sanchez all stepped back in alarm and shock at Dutton's reveal. "D-Dutton!?" Ralsen asked fearfully as the man's body began shaking, his boots thumping on the floor.

Barclay raised his flamethrower and aimed it at Ralsen, before he realized that Silva was right behind him. "Dammit! Sanchez, move Silva out of the way!" Barclay barked. "Sanchez! Move!" Barclay barked again when Sanchez failed to budge, having gone shock still. Barclay forced himself to run around behind Connant and Carrington, who were both crying out in fear at the transformation occurring on the couch.

"Ralsen, use the cattle prod!" Van Wall cried out, leaning as far left as he could onto Crenna to keep himself away from the transforming monster next to him. Dutton's head began make cracking sounds as his mouth began to stretch, and his bleeding eyelids closed before opening to reveal dark red spheres covered in blood.

Van Wall and Crenna continued screaming in terror as they both leaned as far away as possible from the monstrosity, while Barclay grabbed Silva and dragged him away from the couch so that he would be clear from danger. "Ralsen, the cattle prod! Use it!" Barclay exclaimed as Dutton continued his revolting transformation. His head began expanding and deflating in places, and his hands rippled and his fingers became elongated before he began shaking them around, tearing up the rope holding him in place while his mouth morphed shut. His eyes were now tiny black beads in enlarged sockets, and all of his body's skin took on the color of dried blood.

Barclay had just dragged Silva safely away before he turned around and made his way back to the couch. The Dutton-Thing soon stood up, causing the couch to lift and tilt at an angle before he was free of his bonds. The Thing then jumped up into the air, landing back first on the ceiling, before crawling on the backs of its hands before its boots fell off and hit Van Wall and Crenna in their faces.

Its feet curled and its legs bent as it crab-walked on the ceiling over to the wall. "Holy shit," Barclay muttered as he aimed his flamethrower at the ceiling and squeezed the firing trigger, sending out a short blast before the flame stopped. "The fuck!?" he swore in confusion, before trying to fire again. The flame flickered and sputtered.

"Sanchez, Walters! Do something!" Barclay exclaimed. Walters ran forward and aimed his flamethrower up, just within rang for the Thing to grab the nozzle and pull hard as it kept crawling around, causing Walters to run forward to keep up before it let go, causing Walters to crash into the couch. The nozzle landed on Van Wall's lap. "Jesus, don't torch me!" he cried out as Walters fell to the floor.

The Thing continued crawling around on the ceiling as Barclay tried to figure out what was wrong with his flamethrower. The tied-up men all continued screaming in fear as the Thing crawled around above them, terrified that it would drop onto them. Ralsen eventually lifted up his cattle prod and jabbed it at the Thing, hitting it twice and causing it to elicit a strange muffled roar as it practically danced around the ceiling to avoid the jabs that Ralsen sent its way. "Come on, you fucker!" Ralsen spat at what had once been one of his best friends.

The Thing eventually grabbed the cattle prod by the length and pulled it, dragging Ralsen around before lifting it up, forcing Ralsen to hold onto it above his head. The Thing soon stopped moving and shoved the cattle prod back, hitting Ralsen in the head with the butt of the device and causing him to let go as he stumbled back and fell against a book case. The Thing soon swung the cattle prod at Sanchez, who was finally coming out of his stupor.

Lifting his flamethrower to deflect the cattle prod, Sanchez was briefly distracted as the Thing's head split open to reveal two large fang-filled jaws and a large tongue that came out to wrap around his throat. Sanchez let go of the flamethrower to grab the tongue as it lifted him into the air and into its mouth. Sanchez screamed in terror and fear as the Thing's jaws clamped down around his head and began swinging him around wildly before ripping his head from his neck.

"Sanchez!" Silva cried out as Sanchez's decapitated body fell to the floor in a heap, squirting blood onto the floor and side of the couch. The Thing crawled over near the doorway and spit Sanchez's head out into the hall before returning to the room and making its way over towards the men on the couch, dropping down to the floor on all four limbs before bringing itself to stand upright on its hideously deformed feet.

Van Wall, Crenna, and Atkins all screamed in terror as the Thing approached them, only for Walters to finally get up and turn around, blasting the Thing with his flamethrower. The beast let out a trill and a roar as the flames consumed it. Walters sent out another blast as the Thing's mouth snapped shut and it moved towards him.

Walters backed up as he sent another blast at the Thing, watching in horror as the fire-consumed abomination waved its arms in the air and continued moving forward. "Why can't you just die!?" Walters cried out in fear, before the Thing jerked and let out another cry. Barclay had forgone his flamethrower for the cattle prod on the floor. He jabbed the Thing again and again with the cattle prod, before it turned around and ran towards him.

Barclay backed up and held the prod defensively as the Thing approached him, waiting until it had cleared the couch before forcing the cattle prod forward and sticking it in the Thing's head, delivering jolt after jolt of electrical current into it. Eventually, the Thing fell to the floor, and it remained immobile as Barclay continued sending electricity running through it.

"Bar? Bar, I think it's dead," Walters said as he carefully walked around the couch and over to Barclay's side. Barclay took a deep breath as he stepped back from the body. "Grab a fire extinguisher," he said. Walters nodded his head as he made his way over to the coffee table where two extinguishers had been set. He grabbed one and made his way back over to Barclay's side.

"Just give it another minute or two," Barclay said as he eyed the burning body. After two minutes had passed, he gave Walters the OK to put out the flames. Walking over to Sanchez's headless corpse, Barclay solemnly removed the flamethrower and harness before setting it aside. He walked over to grab his own flamethrower and strapped it on before making his way into the hallway, where Sanchez's blood-covered head was resting.

The eyelids flickered open and began looking around, before settling on Barclay. The eyes began taking on a greenish tint, as the mouth opened and closed repeatedly with a vacant stare. Soon, the mouth opened up and stayed open as the tongue slowly pushed itself out and felt around the floor, extending itself as though it were a limb. Aiming the flamethrower at the head, Barclay engulfed it in fire, listening as a gurgling sound was produced by the mouth before the flames completely consumed it.

Taking a breath to calm himself, Barclay looked over at Ralsen, who was just beginning to recover from his head trauma. "Hey... you okay?" Barclay forced himself to ask the man. "Um... no," Ralsen replied with a wince. "Take Sanchez's flamethrower," Barclay said.

"Huh?" Ralsen asked him. "Sanchez's flamethrower; take it," Barclay repeated, motioning towards the flamethrower near the headless corpse. Ralsen's eyes widened as he walked over and saw the body. "Oh god... Tom," Ralsen said with a gasp.

"Pick up the flamethrower," Barclay said firmly. Ralsen reluctantly nodded his head as he bent down and grabbed the harness of the flamethrower, strapping it on and handling the hose and nozzle. "Bar... should we... should we... his body?" Ralsen asked as he pointed the nozzle of the flamethrower at the headless body on the floor. "We'll test it later," Barclay said, before turning his head to look at the remaining six men who were tied up.

Slowly walking over to the desk, Barclay grabbed Van Wall's dish and the spool of wire he had dropped onto the floor. Picking it up, he grabbed the disinfectant and cleaned the wire before re-heating it. When the wire was ready, and Walters and Ralsen had their flamethrowers aimed at the couch, Barclay dipped it into the dish, producing a sizzle.

"Untie him," Barclay said to Walters. Walters obeyed and untied Van Wall, letting the man loose as Barclay set Van Wall's dish to the side and grabbed Crenna's dish. The geologist was also soon proven human, and the the couch was soon empty. As Van Wall and Crenna stood behind the other three men, as Barclay prepared to test Silva's blood.

"Alright," Silva said. "Let's do it." The wire was dipped into the blood, and there was a sizzle as Silva's humanity was confirmed. "May I be untied now?" Silva asked them. Van Wall quickly hurried over and untied the meteorologist from the stool. Setting Silva's dish aside, Barclay grabbed Atkins' dish. "Alright, Doc. Let's see if you really were as far from the lights as you said you were," Barclay stated.

He dipped the re-heated wire into the dish, and Atkins' humanity was made clear to everyone as it sizzled and popped ever so briefly. The doctor was soon untied from the stool, and he quickly went over to join the others as Barclay cleaned and re-heated the wire before grabbing Carrington's dish. Carrington sucked in a breath as he waited for Barclay to put the wire in the blood.

Barclay's eyes narrowed before carefully inserting the wire into the dish. Carrington's blood screamed and tried to retreat from the heat. "Fry him," Barclay said as he saw Carrington beginning to shake on the stool. He was soon set ablaze as Walters and Ralsen descended upon him with their flamethrowers, giving him no chance to finish his transformation.

Sitting just a few feet away, Connant let out a sigh as he looked over at the burning body of what was once Carrington. He then looked over at Barclay and the others as his dish was retrieved. Barclay looked him in the eyes questioningly. "Just... just get it over with," Connant said quietly. Barclay raised an eyebrow curiously and suspiciously, before nodding his head and finally inserting the wire into the dish.

* * *

Author's Notes: What a doozy that one was. As you may have noticed, I left Connant's fate ambiguous until the next chapter is posted. And, of course, I had to do the blood test sequence. It is a necessity for almost all Thing fan fiction. The problem was, however, how to do it without completely ripping off John Carpenter's version. Well, the answer is that you can't. All you can do is execute it in a way that differs from what John Carpenter did, but the basic situation itself will usually play out in much the same manner.

Also, I had originally intended for _Ralsen_ to be the imitation and for _Dutton_ to be human. I switched this around because I felt that making Ralsen an imitation would have been too obvious, especially with the blatant antagonism that I've had him display in the past two chapters. I feel that these sequences always work best if the reveal is more surprising and unexpected.

Now, of course, this isn't the final chapter of the story. So, to all of you who are reading this, I hope that you'll let me know what you think of the chapter in your reviews. And, of course, I'd like to know what you all think Connant's fate is. Is he human or imitation? Let me know in your reviews or in private messages.


	12. Finale

**THE THING II: Hawke Station**

Disclaimer: John Carpenter's THE THING is property of Universal.

Some of this chapter was written while listening to the soundtracks for both _John Carpenter's_ _THE THING_ (1982) and _Prince Of Darkness_ (1987), which I feel is a _very_ "End of the world as we know it" type score. I feel that the main "theme" of _Prince Of Darkness_ also bears more than a passing resemblance to Morricone's THING theme at times. Listen to both scores back to back, and you'll eventually notice the similarities. I also listened to the tracks _Too Hot_ and _Escape Bubbles_ from the score for _Leviathan_ (1989) by the late Jerry Goldsmith.

UPDATE: 3:24 pm, 02/24/2017. I have decided to alter the final climax by replacing the original one with the alternate one, as it is more exciting and energetic.

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Finale**

* * *

Date: Winter 1982 - 1983

 **United States Antarctic Research Outpost "Hakwe Station"**

The harsh winter winds whipped around outside the camp, howling as it cut around the building and piles of snow built up against the various structures. The snow fell heavily, illuminated by blue lights outside near the entrances and exits of the main building. This building, at one point, housed as many as forty to fifty people during the summer, and during the winter it would hold twenty. Now, it only held a fraction of those numbers, as an unwelcomed intruder had disrupted the daily lives of the men who operated and maintained the facility.

Inside the recreation room, Barclay leaned back against the wall with his head in his hands. He looked over at the other six men standing in the room. Thomas Van Wall, Benjamin Ralsen, Louis Atkins, Dillon Walters, Victor Silva, and Martin Crenna were all watching him expectantly, pondering their next course of action. "We still have to test Hendry," Barclay said after a minute. "He should still be sedated. We shouldn't have too much trouble with him," Crenna said.

"Yeah, and I'd given the keys to _Dutton_ on a few occasions," Barclay said in dismay. "Well, he was never alone with him long enough to do anything, right?" Walters asked. "I don't know," Barclay said as he looked over at the charred bodies of Connant and Carrington on their fallen stools. "Well, I'm... sure he'll be pleased to know that he was right about Kinner," Ralsen said with a shrug.

Barclay looked over at the dishes on the desk, and saw that there were still a few unused ones lying inside the medical bag. Everyone felt tense, and mournful. "So... I got some weed in my room for when this is all over. I'm willing to share," Ralsen said suddenly. "Yeah, well... we'll wait until we've tested Hendry to use any of it," Barclay said with a wry smile after chuckling.

The other men snickered and chuckled as well for a brief moment. "Enough stalling," Barclay said after a minute. "Van Wall and Silva, go get the remaining flamethrowers. Doc, you and Crenna get the other medical supplies and meet the rest of us outside Hendry's room," Barclay said. "Wait... before we go over there, shouldn't we, you know, test... Sanchez's body again?" Atkins asked him.

Barclay glanced over at the headless corpse lying on the floor near the couch. "Yeah. Yeah, we need to test that," Barclay conceded before grabbing the wire and heating it again. When it was ready, he made his way over to Sanchez's corpse and dipped the hot wire into the blood on the floor. There was no reaction, other than a sizzle.

Cleaning the wire, he reheated it and hesitantly poked at the gaping stump that had once been the radio operator's neck. Again, nothing happened. "Okay," Barclay said quietly. "The body is still human. Let's get ready to test Hendry."

"Wait, Dutton still had the keys on him, didn't he?" Silva asked. Barclay frowned upon realizing that Silva was correct. Looking at the burnt corpse on the floor, Barclay quickly walked over and knelt down to try to find the keys, grabbing them and holding them up before realizing that the constant barrage of intense heat from the flamethrowers had caused the cuts to warp and melt just enough that they wouldn't be able to work properly anymore. He sighed in dismay before remembering that he had a set of spare keys hidden somewhere in Hendry's office. "We have some spares," he announced. "I know where to find them."

* * *

The halls of Hawke Station were devoid of the usual chatter and jokes among its personnel. The subtle hum of the underground generator remained at its normal volume, and the usual faint buzzing of the ceiling lights had been unchanged. The only other sounds now were the boots and shoes on the floor as seven men made their way from the station commander's office to the dorms, carrying medical supplies and weapons.

Walking over to the closed door, Barclay hesitantly knocked on it. "Charles? Listen, we're coming in. We've, uh... we've found a test to determine who's human," Barclay said loudly, listening for Hendry to reply. After a minute of silence, Barclay knocked on the door again, thinking that perhaps Hendry was asleep.

"Hendry? Ready or not, we're coming in," Barclay said before inserting the spare key into the lock and turning it. He then opened the door outwards, revealing an unlit room. "Silva, shine a light in there," Barclay said. Silva nodded his head and turned on a flashlight, pointing the light into the room and slowly panning around to show Hendry's empty bed.

Barclay carefully reached inside and felt around for the light switch. When the lights came on, everyone could see that the room was empty. Barclay hesitantly entered the room and knelt down next to the bed, looking under it before standing back up. Hendry was nowhere to be found. "Where did he go?" Atkins asked. "Dutton," Barclay said, narrowing his eyes. "Dutton got to him at some point, and then he let him out when no one was looking. Son of a bitch!" Barclay swore in anger.

"So, where's he at now?" Van Wall asked. "He could be anywhere. We've no idea how long he's been loose," Barclay said. "We don't know for certain that he's infected. He could have found a way to unlock the door on his-oh," Crenna said before he noticed that the lock was only on the outside of the door. There was no inside hole for the key.

"What do we do?" Walters asked nervously. "We stick together. We know that we're all human. If we split up, then we have to do the blood test all over again," Barclay said. "Anything else? Any other plans?" Ralsen asked him. "We check the exits and make sure that they're all locked," Barclay said. "We'll search the camp, room by room, until we find him, starting with the dorms," he added.

The group quickly began searching each dorm room, one by one, until they were certain that Hendry was not hiding in any of them. "Where do we go now?" Ralsen asked. "The laundry room," Barclay said before leading the way, gripping his flamethrower securely.

The laundry room was soon found to be empty as well, with no trace of Hendry in sight. "The shower room," Barclay said. The group followed him back into the hallway before heading to the main bathroom, checking each shower and toilet stall, along with the laundry bins.

After exiting the bathroom, Barclay looked over at the staircase that led down to the generator room. "Let's try the generator room," Barclay said. "The generator room?" Ralsen asked him.

"Yeah. The old storage area is located down there too. Plenty of places to hide," Barclay said before heading back to the dorms. "Everyone grab a jacket and winter gear," Barclay ordered as he made his way to his room. The other men quickly followed suit and dressed themselves appropriately before making their way back to the staircase.

"Who wants to go first?" Van Wall asked. "I'll go first," Barclay said as he gripped his flamethrower tightly. Carefully descending the stairs, Barclay grabbed the door handle and opened the door before stepping inside the icy cavern housing the generator and old storage area. Walking down the steps further, Barclay kept one hand gripping the safety rail as he continued his descent, before finally reaching the bottom.

Barclay listened to the footsteps of the others behind him as he slowly walked over to the generator. The generator was inside its cage, running properly and free of frost since the last maintenance check had been performed. "Any sign of Hendry?" Walters asked as he neared the bottom of the stairs.

"No. Not yet," Barclay said as he turned away from the generator and walked over to a short series of steps that led up to the old storage area. There were snow-covered chairs, small tables, crates, and various other objects and furniture lining both sides of the icy tunnel. The area had not seen much use in the past several months.

Barclay looked over and waited until the others had made it to the bottom landing before gesturing for them to follow him. Ralsen and Van Wall were soon right behind him as he made his way down the tunnel, scanning every crevice, nook, and cranny for signs of Hendry or recent activity. There were no prints in the snow, no imprints from moved objects, and no signs that anyone or anything had been in the area.

"He's not here," Barclay eventually said as he had scoured the storage area. "Let's go back upstairs," Ralsen said, nodding his head. Barclay nodded his own head in agreement before gesturing for the others to make their way back up the stairs. Barclay stayed in the rear as the men ascended the frozen stairs and returned to the warmth of the above-ground building.

After closing the door behind him, Barclay joined the others at the top of the stairs. "Okay, so he's not down there," Barclay said in frustration. "We still haven't finished checking the rest of the building," Crenna said. "Right," Barclay said in agreement. "Okay, let's check the storage rooms," he said before leading the men down the hall and into said rooms.

 **The Workshop, One Hour Later**

Barclay opened the door to the final unchecked room of Hawke Station. Looking inside, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, until he saw that several cutting tools and tool cases were missing. Gas tanks for certain torches were gone, along with multiple battery packs, saw blades, welding tools, and power cables.

"He took the cutting and welding tools," Ralsen noted as he looked around the room. "Why? What would he use them for?" Crenna asked. "I don't know," Barclay said, confused by the stolen equipment. "The last time I escorted Hendry to the bathroom was earlier today. Dutton had the keys afterwards, but how could... no," Barclay said, realizing that the time frame was too close for Hendry to be properly infected and assimilated by Dutton prior to escaping.

"Bar? What are you mumbling about?" Silva asked him. "Hendry was infected the whole time, wasn't he?" Barclay asked himself. "Huh?" Van Wall asked him. "Hendry was already an imitation when we locked him up," Barclay said as the pieces began to fall into place.

"That son of a bitch," he swore. "So, where's Hendry?" Ralsen asked rhetorically. "We've checked the entire station top to bottom, and he's nowhere to be found," he added. "Not inside," Barclay said in realization. "What?" Crenna asked him. "Hendry's not inside. He's out _there_ ," Barclay said as he exited the room and made a B-Line for the nearest exit, close to the radio room.

"Wait, Bar! Where the hell are you going!?" Silva asked as he ran after him. "Hendry's outside somewhere," Barclay said as he entered a winter gear room and opened a box of flares. "Bar, slow down. You can't go back out there on your own," Silva said to him. "Silva, we gotta go out there," Barclay said with urgency. "Bar, do you have _any idea_ how cold it is out there by this point?" Silva asked him as the others caught up to them.

"I walked back here in this weather, Silva. I _know_ how fucking cold it is outside," Barclay retorted. "Then why the hell would you wanna go back out there!?" Silva asked him. "Haven't you been paying _any_ fucking attention!?" Barclay asked him incredulously. "Hendry is one of those _Things!_ "

"Then let it freeze to death out there," Walters said. "Dillon, this Thing _slept_ for thousands of years trapped in ice. It'll be like taking a nap for that Thing out there," Ralsen spat. "He's right," Barclay said in agreement as he grabbed a pair of goggles from a rack and re-adjusted his hood over his head. "We have to find him. Even if we only find a trail, it's better than nothing," Barclay said with finality before walking out of the room and into the next one.

He stopped just as he gripped the door handle and looked over at the others. "I want at least two people to stay here and get supplies ready for another test. When I or anyone else come back inside, we'll need to be tested again," Barclay explained. "So, who wants to join me?" he asked.

"Aw hell, I'll go," Ralsen said reluctantly. "Me too," Silva said. "I'm coming along as well," Walters said. "I'm going too," Van Wall said. "Doc, Crenna? I guess you two get to stay here and get that test prepared again," Barclay said. "We'll get right on it," Atkins said, nodding his head before gesturing for Crenna to follow him.

Barclay looked at the other men who had volunteered to head outside with him. They each held flamethrowers in their gloved hands. "Grab some flares," Barclay said firmly, waiting until the men had returned from the other room before opening the door and venturing out into the cold harsh winter storm.

* * *

The wind whipped about and lashed across Barclay's jacket as he held his flare above his head, illuminating the immediate area around him as he and the others held onto the tow line between them. They had already scoured the immediate outside of the building, on all sides, and were nearing the entrance to the kennel when Barclay noticed that the tarp on one of the snowplows had been dislodged.

Making his way over to the vehicle, Barclay grabbed the tarp and prepared to secure it when he noticed that the door to the vehicle had been opened. Stepping up and looking inside, he saw that almost half of the front controls had been removed, with wires sticking out and all of the steering column having been gutted. "What's the matter!?" Van Wall shouted at him, the wind picking up in both speed and sound volume.

Barclay turned his head to look at the others. "The controls are gone!" Barclay replied. "What!?" Van Wall asked him. "I said, _the controls are gone!_ " Barclay yelled. "How bad are they broken!?" Ralsen asked him. "No! Not broken! GONE! _REMOVED!_ " Barclay shouted until the wind died down again. "Removed? What do you mean, ' _removed_ '?" Ralsen asked him skeptically as he walked forward.

Barclay held his flare carefully out of the way as Ralsen stepped up next to him and looked inside the cabin of the snowplow. "Jesus Christ," Ralsen muttered in shock. "Do you think Hendry did this, or one of the others?" Ralsen asked Barclay. "Could have been any of them, but I'd put my money on Hendry," Barclay replied.

Ralsen hopped down and lifted the rest of the tarp from the cover of the plow, seeing the lost grill and other parts that had once been inside the frame, leaving only the essential pieces holding it together in place. Ralsen looked over at the other snow plow and made a gesture to Barclay. Barclay hopped down and motioned for the others to follow them as he and Ralsen made their way to the next vehicle.

Lifting the untouched tarp, and opening the cabin doors, the men saw that this vehicle had been left intact. They quickly replaced the tarp and closed the door before making their way over to the next one. The third vehicle's tarp was still in place, and so it also seemed untouched until the tarp was lifted, showing the vehicle to be almost skeletal with the amount of inner workings and cover parts that had been removed.

"I don't get it!" Silva exclaimed in confusion. "Why disable the vehicles? Why take them apart!?" he asked. "He must be trying to strand us!" Van Wall said. "Remember that tape we listened to? Remember Macready's tape? He said that one of the men had sabotaged the vehicles to trap them and the Thing," the helicopter pilot explained.

"So you think Hendry's actually trying to trap this Thing here with us?" Walters asked him. "No. He'd only have smashed up vehicle controls if that were the case," Barclay said, shaking his head. "No, he's stealing parts of the vehicles for something," he concluded. "Like what?" Ralsen asked him.

"I wish I knew," Barclay replied. He then saw Van Wall looking over at where the helicopters were covered up. "Van Wall, what's wrong?" Barclay asked him after glancing in the same direction the pilot was looking. "Where's the Mil Mi?" Van Wall asked. "What?" Barclay asked in response.

"The Soviet helicopter; It's not where I parked it," Van Wall explained as he pointed over to the space near the bulldozer. "It's been right there since we returned from Lazarev," the pilot said with confusion in his eyes. Looking over at the spot, Barclay saw something shiny over by the tool shed. Gesturing for the others to follow him, he led them over to the shed, before realizing that the door was open and the object was partially inside.

Kneeling down, Barclay saw that the shiny object was a very large rolled-up tarp. "It's the tarp for the Soviet chopper!" Barclay exclaimed. "Shit, Hendry took off in the helicopter!?" Silva asked incredulously. "No! No way! Not in this weather!" Van Wall shouted.

"Human or not, you don't fly one of those things in this kind of weather. Too cold, too much snow, and too much wind to start it up. You'd have to already have it running before the storm started if you wanted to use it at all!" Van Wall explained. "Then where is it!?" Barclay asked him.

Looking back over by the bulldozer, Walters saw that the trench where Pomroy and the Things had been deposited seemed disturbed. A trail was leading out of the snow mound, and Walters squinted his eyes as he followed the trail in the snow, as though something had been dragged along the ground. Following it with his eyes, he saw it soon disappear in the storm, but not before noticing something else through the falling snow in the distance. "Hey, guys?" he asked loudly. "Huh?" Barclay asked him. "Hey, do you guys see that?" Walters asked as he pointed to the faint glow in the distance.

"That's the vehicle garage," Ralsen stated. "That's where Hendry is," Barclay said after a minute. "Van Wall! You go inside and tell the others that we've found Hendry. Have Doc and Crenna test your blood and then stay inside and wait for us to return," Barclay said. "You sure?" Van Wall asked him.

"Yeah. Hold onto the tow line and and get back inside," Barclay said. Van Wall reluctantly nodded his head before turning around and making his way back to the main building, leaving the other four men where they stood, keeping one hand gripping the handle of his flamethrower. The other four men looked over at the vehicle garage pensively.

"Let's move," Barclay said firmly as he glared at the glowing building. Making their way through the snow and the wind, the four men slowly but surely reached the outer walls of the garage, stopping to check their line. "Are we secure?" Barclay asked Ralsen. "We're good," Ralsen replied as he checked the the line.

"Disconnect from it. We need to move freely once we get inside," Barclay ordered before unhooking the clasp from his harness and tying the rope to a blue light pole outside of the garage. When the other men had unhooked themselves, he motioned for them to follow him away from the main vehicle door, staying close to the wall as he slowly made his way towards the end of the building and rounded the corner before slowly walking over to the smaller entrance door.

Grabbing the handle, Barclay turned it slowly, listening as it opened without a struggle. The door did have a lock, but it was hardly ever used. Slowly opening the door and peeking inside, Barclay's eyes widened as he saw a strange craft in the center of the garage, with the Soviet Helicopter having been reduced to a skeletal frame and pile of parts nearby. The new craft was saucer-like in shape, with two nacelles, or nacelle-looking objects, visible at what was most likely the rear of the vessel. From the center of the craft was an unearthly greenish-blue glow.

Barclay slowly stepped inside the garage, motioning for the other men to join him as he quietly tip toed over to the stair case that led up to the catwalk. Several work benches stood nearby, along with racks of power tools on the wall, and several barrels of kerosene, all tied up and secured in a corner of the room. " _What is that?_ " Silva asked quietly as he crept behind Barclay.

" _Some kind of ship, I think,_ " Barclay replied quietly. Ralsen and Walters soon crept inside the garage behind Silva, staring in confusion and fascination at the partially-completed ship in the center of the garage. " _Where the hell is he trying to go?_ " Walters asked in a whisper. " _Any... any place that isn't here, I guess. Doesn't matter. We can't let him leave,_ " Barclay replied quietly and determinedly. Slowly raising himself up to get a better look, Ralsen accidentally bumped his shoulder into one of the light switches, illuminating the room.

Barclay, Walters, and Silva all turned to look at Ralsen in admonishment. "Uh... oops?" Ralsen apologized sheepishly. " _You dumb shit,_ " Walters hissed quietly. Quickly looking back over at the ship, Barclay saw movement behind it. "Great, he knows we're here," Barclay muttered as he slowly stepped over to the stairs of the catwalk. He kept his flamethrower pointed towards the craft, glancing left and right for more signs of movement.

"Hendry," Barclay finally said, "I know what you are. And I know that you're in here." The room was silent, and no response was made. "Are you gonna answer me?" Barclay asked as he motioned for the others to make their way to the stairs. "Hendry?" Barclay asked again.

"Hendry, if you're still human, answer me," Barclay requested, before hearing the sound of something dragging on the ground, along with faint gurgling, wet popping and tearing, and other noises that he couldn't immediately identify. "Hendry? Charles?" Barclay asked again. Barclay soon heard a gasp above him, and turned to looked at Ralsen. Walters was staring wide-eyed at something on the other side of the saucer, which Barclay couldn't see.

"Bar, get your ass up here," Silva said in a slightly panicked tone. Barclay slowly began backing up towards the bottom of the stair case, until he saw the monstrosity that Hendry was becoming as he moved around the craft and into view. A gray hairless dog, wet and slimy, was connected to a larger tentacled beast, with a slightly visible portion of Hendry's head fused with what seemed to be a malformed dog's head, with an open maw of sharp teeth.

Large, almost tendril-like legs found at the bottom of the body were being used for locomotion as the Thing crawled around, with the emerging dog portion snarling at Barclay and Ralsen. Ralsen backed up against the wall before darting over to the doorway, high-tailing it out of the building and running out into the snow. "R-Ralsen!? Ralsen!" Barclay shouted as he saw the man exiting the garage.

The Thing snarled and roared at Barclay again, with veins visible all over its body, and large arms ending in sharp and powerful claws waving slowly in the air as it grabbed a desk and threw it out of the way. The only visible eye on the remaining portion of Hendry's face narrowed as it looked at Barclay, while the fur-covered portions of the body wiggled before splitting open to let more tendrils flow out.

Barclay aimed his flamethrower at the abomination and let loose a stream of fire, before the dog portion tore itself away from the main body, revealing that it only had two front limbs for locomotion. The dog Thing dragged itself across the floor and hissed at Barclay, who glanced at it before backing over under the catwalk and running into the shadows. Walters and Silva both stayed up on the catwalk, aiming their flamethrowers at the Things below.

The dog-Thing began chasing Barclay under the catwalk, while the Hendry Thing grabbed a work bench and threw it up at the two men on the catwalk. "Jesus! Duck!" Silva cried out before he and Walters leapt out of the way. Meanwhile, Barclay was busy keeping the Dog Thing at bay while trying to get out from under the catwalk.

The Thing snarled and hissed at him as it closed in. Barclay let another stream of flame loose as he kept backing up, with the Thing dodging each blast and using its surroundings for cover to avoid the fire. Soon, Barclay could no longer see the Thing. He glanced around, eyes wide and alert as he listened for sounds of the beast.

He could see the Hendry-Thing near the other side of the room as it fought against the two men on the catwalk, using machinery and whatever else was at its disposal for cover and offense. After backing up into a metal beam pillar, Barclay glanced around again, until he heard heavy panting. He turned his head to the left just in time to see the open maw of the Dog Thing moving towards him.

The dog-Thing began chasing Barclay under the catwalk, while the Hendry Thing grabbed a work bench and threw it up at the two men on the catwalk. "Jesus! Duck!" Silva cried out before he and Walters leapt out of the way. Meanwhile, Barclay was busy keeping the Dog Thing at bay while trying to get out from under the catwalk.

The Thing snarled and hissed at him as it closed in. Barclay let another stream of flame loose as he kept backing up, with the Thing dodging each blast and using its surroundings for cover to avoid the fire. Soon, Barclay could no longer see the Thing. He glanced around, eyes wide and alert as he listened for sounds of the beast.

He could see the Hendry-Thing near the other side of the room as it fought against the two men on the catwalk, using machinery and whatever else was at its disposal for cover and offense. After backing up into a metal beam pillar, Barclay glanced around again, until he heard heavy panting. He turned his head to the left just in time to see the open maw of the Dog Thing moving towards him.

He quickly turned his body and held up his flamethrower nozzle as the Thing moved closer, letting it bite down on the metal portion as its feet pushed him back against the wall. Barclay wrestled the nozzle out of the Thing's mouth and elbowed it in the face, pushing it back and forcing its legs off of him as it fell back to the floor just long enough to re-orient himself before the Thing steadied itself and prepared to lunge forward again. Barclay frowned and aimed his flamethrower forward, letting the Thing latch its jaws around the nozzle before he sent a blast of fire inside of its mouth, igniting the Thing from the inside.

Barclay squeezed the firing trigger again, making sure to burn the creature in its entirety as the flames shot out from inside of it, causing its insides to boil and its skin to crackle before it fell to the floor. Taking his flamethrower out of its mouth he sent one last stream of napalm onto the creature before stepping around it, just before he heard the catwalk creak.

"Walters! Silva!" Barclay cried out as he ran out from under the catwalk, looking up at the catwalk as the two men were thrown about. "Hold on to something!" Walters cried out as the Thing gripped one of the support beams and began yanking on it and trying to break it, bending it in its claws. Silva sent a stream of fire down at the Thing, forcing it to back off, before it used several tentacles to grab the beam and pull on it as it moved away. "Shit!" Silva cried out before the beam gave way and the portion of the catwalk above them tilted, causing Walters to fall over the safety rail.

Silva grabbed Walters by the arm and tried hoisting him up as the Thing let go of the beam and began making its way forward. Walters glanced back over his shoulder. "Pull me up! Pull me up!" he cried out. "I'm trying!" Silva exclaimed as he tugged on Walters' arms, getting him to grab onto the safety rail. A tentacle grabbed onto Walters' legs and pulled him down, throwing him over to the side before letting him go.

Walters let out a gasp of pain as he landed on the floor and rolled over near the kerosene barrels. Silva quickly made his way over to the stairs, aiming his flamethrower at the beast as it moved towards Walters. "Walters, get up!" Silva yelled as he stopped in the middle of the stairs and squeezed off a blast of napalm at the Thing. The Thing turned to face him and snarled before sending a series of tentacles towards Walters, who frantically and painfully tried to scoot away from them, his back and limbs still stinging from the cold and the impact of the hard landing.

"Hey! Hey!" Barclay yelled out as the Hendry-Thing closed in on the two men. "Hey, Charles! Hey, fuck-face!" Barclay shouted, grabbing the Thing's attention as it turned away from Walters and Silva to glare at him. He saw a frown on the surviving portion of Hendry's face, his green eye narrowing in anger and contempt.

Barclay made his way around the saucer, watching as the Thing kept its focus on him. Barclay glanced over at the open and unfinished cockpit of the small craft, seeing that parts of it still weren't finished. Looking closer, the whole craft appeared to have been a somewhat rushed effort. Retrieving a stick of dynamite from the harness he was wearing, Barclay held the stick near his flamethrower's nozzle.

"So, where are ya goin'?" Barclay asked the Thing contemptuously. The canine head attached to Hendry's let out a hiss as the massive creature slowly made its way around the vessel, its tentacles and tendrils retreating from Walters, who breathed a sigh of relief. "Our company's not that bad, is it?" Barclay asked it as he gestured to the ship.

Keeping part of its body just out of view, a series of tendrils and tentacles slowly made their way under the saucer. "Silva, get Walters and get out of here," Barclay said. "And when you find Ralsen, deck him for me," he added, just before he felt something curl around his right leg and pull it out from under him, twisting his leg painfully.

Barclay let out a yell of surprise as he fell onto his back, banging the fuel and gas canisters of the flamethrower against the floor. "Oh, shit!" he swore as the tentacle pulled him along the floor and slammed him into a crate. "Oof!" he let out at the impact, before the tentacle pulled him along and threw him over towards the skeletal frame of the Soviet Mil Mi-17 helicopter, letting go of his leg and sending him sliding across the floor. Barclay grabbed his leg and let out a gasp of pain.

Barclay opened his eyes and watched as the Thing slowly advanced upon him, holding up his flamethrower and squeezing the firing trigger, only to watch it sputter. "Shit!" he cursed with wide eyes as the Thing snarled at him. He desperately tried squeezing the trigger as the Thing advanced, only for the Thing to stop as it turned to face the vehicle door, just before a bulldozer broke through it.

"The hell!?" Barclay asked incredulously as he saw Ralsen sitting in the cabin. Ralsen looked over to his right and turned the vehicle to face the beast. He opened the door of the cabin and leaned out. "Hey! Hey, asshole! Pick on someone your own size!" Ralsen yelled out. The Thing roared at him and turned around before grabbing the metal plate with its front clawed hands. Ralsen backed up and turned the vehicle as he struggled with the Thing.

"Holy shit," Ralsen muttered as the Thing pushed back against the bulldozer, roaring in defiance as it wrapped several tentacles around the wheels and the metal plate. Ralsen quickly realized that he was going to be overwhelmed. He turned off the engine and got out of the cabin, aiming his flamethrower at the massive beast before letting a stream of flame shoot out and consume the abomination.

Ralsen backed away as he continued setting fire to the monster, before a tentacle lashed out and smacked him away. He quickly let go of the nozzle and the flame ceased firing as he fell to his side. Grunting in discomfort, Ralsen pushed himself up and crawled away from the burning monstrosity.

Watching the Thing burn, Barclay let out a sigh of relief. The relief, however, was short-lived, as he heard a sickening flesh-tearing sound. He looked over and watched as the Thing tried tearing part of itself away from its body. "Oh, give me a fucking break!" Barclay spat as he saw the malformed humanoid portion crawl over to the saucer, smoke and steam rising from its burnt body.

The Thing entered the craft and began a startup sequence, causing the nacelles on the back to began heating up as exhaust began to spill out. "Shit, he's gettin' away," Ralsen moaned in dismay. "No. No, he's not," Barclay said with a frown.

Barclay quickly undid his flamethrower harness before grabbing the stick of dynamite that had fallen from his grip. He grabbed the flamethrower nozzle and held the fuse up to it before letting the heat ignite it. Quickly getting up, hissing in pain as he did so, Barclay limped over to the saucer, stopping by the still-burning portion of the larger Thing mass before pulling his arm back, aiming at the open cockpit. "No way. No way you're getting out of here alive," he growled before throwing the dynamite into the open cockpit, just as the thing closed a makeshift metal hatch on top of it.

The small ship soon lit up as the engines roared and the nacelles sent out a stream of fire and exhaust, propelling the small craft forward and into the air. The saucer crashed through the garage as it rose into the air. "It got away!" Silva cried out. "Uh-uh! He's fucked," Barclay said with a wry smile on his face.

Inside the saucer, the Thing looked around its small cockpit, searching for the hissing and sizzling sound that surrounded it. The Thing soon saw the stick of dynamite lodged in a small gap between two metal plates behind its seat. Its lone green eye widened as the fuse ran out and it let loose a horrified cry just as its world burned white.

The dynamite exploded, destroying the cockpit, and rupturing the canisters of kerosene fueling the engines. Said engines erupted and exploded violently, further consuming the metal vessel in flames and lighting up the night sky. Debris rained down onto the snow-covered Earth below, while the men of Hawke Station looked up and collectively sighed in relief.

Down below, Barclay and the others looked up at the burning wreckage as what was left of it began falling to the Earth. "Ha-ha!" Barclay let out victoriously. "You got fucked!" he exclaimed with a grin before leaning back against a support beam. Looking at the burning remains of the larger portion of the Thing, Barclay sighed. "Hey, Silva! Get some kerosene!" Barclay yelled tiredly.

"Why?" Silva asked as he helped Walters to his feet. "Because this part over here might still be raw and uncooked inside. I don't wanna take any more chances," Barclay replied before walking over to where Ralsen was sitting, slowly leaning himself back against the wall. "You... you don't think it's dead?" Ralsen asked him, keeping his eyes on the burning mass of flesh. "I don't know. Even if it is, better safe than sorry," Barclay said tiredly as he slowly slid down the wall and sat next to Ralsen, letting out a sigh of exhaustion.

Silva soon made his way over with the kerosene and began pouring it onto the still burning mass of the Thing. "Yikes!" Silva cried out as the flames rose up fiercely, almost catching his arm. The smoke billowed and rose up through the new hole in the roof, and the men stayed in the garage until they were certain that the Thing was dead.

* * *

 **The Recreation Room, An Hour Later...**

After the four men had returned, Barclay had ordered the others to prepare a test for them, just to be safe. The four men were quickly led into the rec room and forced to sit on the couch, with Van Wall holding a flamethrower towards them at Barclay's orders. Each of them had their thumbs sliced for blood, and each of them had clean petri dishes filled up.

Barclay watched as Atkins and Van Wall cleaned and prepared the copper wire before inserting it into Walters' blood. Walters was proven human once more and was allowed to walk away from the couch. Silva was tested next, and he, too, was proven human. Only Barclay and Ralsen were left.

The wire was inserted into Ralsen's blood after being cleaned and re-heated, sizzling in response to the wire. "You're clear... again," Barclay said as Ralsen walked away from the couch. Barclay sighed as the wire was cleaned and re-heated, before Atkins held up the dish.

"Are you ready?" Atkins asked him. "Yeah," Barclay said with a tired nod of his head. "Okay," Atkins said. He then lowered the wire into the blood, confirming that Barclay was human.

The End

Ending Theme: _Humanity Part 1_ , by Ennio Morricone.

* * *

Author's Note: Th-Th-Th-Th-Th-Th-Th-That's all, folks! Well, that was the final chapter of Hawke Station. The story itself isn't quite what I'd planned or how I'd hoped it would turn out. What I'm probably going to do at some point is either do a Redux version of the story, with a few less characters and a more streamlined plot, or I'll save something like that for, say, another adaptation of the original novella. Yes, I plan on doing my own fan-adaptation of the original novella at some point, set in the 21st century, taking characters from the 2011 prequel and 1982 film in addition to the characters found in John W. Campbell Jr.'s original work.

But, before that, I have an ALIEN fan fiction that I'd like to write. Since there's a new ALIEN movie coming out this May, my appreciation of the franchise has been re-awakened. I also won't include quite so many characters, as while I do enjoy reading what I've done with THE THING to a degree, I feel that I had way too many characters in Hawke Station.

Also, I will have one more chapter posted, which will be a collection of unused and alternate material, including the original version of the final battle, which I have since replaced with another, more action-packed version as of 10:43 pm on 02/24/2017. So, uh, I guess let me know what you think of the story in your reviews. And, again, I'd really like to know what people think of my characterization of Barclay, as well as how he compares and contrasts with MacReady from the Carpenter film and Kate from the 2011 film. I know how I feel about the way I wrote him, but I'd like to know what others think. So, with that being said, I bid you all adieu... for now.


End file.
